#I really enjoyed playing around with the lighting here

[leighsartworks216]

Your Majesty

Zayne x fem!Reader x Sylus

I got this idea outta nowhere but thank fucking god I did. There was gonna be more build up but nahhhh

@comatosebunny09 IT'S HERE BABEYY

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: pwp, smut, polyamory, threesome, royalty AU, kissing, cuddling, cum swallowing, blow jobs, face sitting, hair pulling, anal sex, fingering, oral, 69, light dom/sub, sweat, banter, teasing, biting

Word Count: 2,247

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Zayne was never very vocal insofar as moaning, but with every slap of Sylus's hips against his ass, breathy whimpers rose from his throat. Gasps of air, choked up and shaking with pleasure. He reaches back and holds onto your arms, trying not to hold on too tightly for fear of hurting you. You brush his hair back from his face, caressing his flushed cheeks. He's so beautiful like this, glistening with sweat and eyes glazed over as he watches his stiff cock bounce against his stomach in tandem with Sylus's movements.

"You sound so beautiful, my love," you coo sweet praise by his ear. He's putty in your hands, a little doll for you and your other consort to play with. So easily do you tilt his head back, until his Adam's apple cranes toward the ceiling and his eyes hazily focus on you. "So pretty..."

You swallow his gasp while you thumb circles around a pert nipple, pinching it between your fingers. His back arches away from the plush of your bed, seeking more. Sylus strokes along his side, petting up along his ribs. "And he's being such a good boy tonight. Don't you agree, Your Highness?"

You hum, pulling away from Zayne's mouth. Saliva glistens in a silver strand, coats his lips, tastes as sweet as the grapes he ate earlier. "He is," you agree. You push your thumb into his mouth. He sucks on it greedily, lapping at the pad of it like a dog. You pull it out with a wet pop, and rub the slick over the pretty pink bud once more, rolling it under your thumb as you finally draw a breathy moan from his throat. "What do you want for being such a good boy?"

"Taste..." he pants. His whole body shudders as he rolls his hips to meet one of Sylus's thrusts, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "Taste you, my lady... Please, I beg, let me taste you..."

With a small gesture, Sylus slows considerably. His large cock drags slowly out of Zayne's needy hole, until only the tip remains inside, before just as slowly pushing it back in. It's torture. Slow, beautiful torture. Zayne's chest heaves with pleading pants, stomach coated in the sticky precum leaking from his flushed head.

"Is that really what you want, darling?"

He nods, a tear or two finally breaking free as he aches for Sylus to ravage him again like before. Yearns to feel so close to cumming just from being fucked and cradled alone, without either of his lovers giving attention to his weeping cock.

You brush the tears away and kiss him chastely on his lips. "As you wish, my love."

He releases your arms. As you slide out from under his head, Sylus cradles Zayne's neck and leans over the man to kiss him deeply. The slick precum clings to Sylus's own stomach where it touches him. His tongue pushes deep into his partner's mouth, swallowing every sound he makes as he rolls his hips in gentle thrusts. Sylus's grunts and groans mix with Zayne's breathy sounds; both only serve to add to your desire.

You tangle your fingers in white hair and tug. It hurts, sure, but your consort has always enjoyed the pain, especially when you use it to command him in the bedroom. He starts to straighten back up, but you don't let him. Halfway up, he has to rest his hand on Zayne's chest to support himself as you kiss him roughly.

Zayne watches in a daze. The way your throats bob and tongues meet before each kiss, teeth bite at lips and pull. The furrow in Sylus's brow as he tries leaning more into you despite the pull on his hair. It's addicting. There is always something so arousing when he gets the opportunity to watch his partners enjoy each other. Something that challenges the natural possessiveness he keeps locked away, tamed only by the fact that he is a partner to you both. How could he be jealous of his own partners when he himself is just as loved and doted on by either of you?

When you finally release Sylus, his face is flushed and a smirk dances on his lips. He straightens out, returning his hold to Zayne's hip and spread legs, as you position yourself to straddle over his face. You smell divine. Saccharine and sinful. His hands grab your hips and sit you onto his awaiting mouth before you can do it yourself.

You moan at the sudden wet heat licking you. The unholy sounds of slurping as he drinks every drop of slick from your pussy. Sylus even groans at the delicious noises. "Ah- I thought this was a good boy?" You grind your cunt down onto his face. He laps at your swollen clit as his nose swipes against your dripping hole. You rest your hands on his abs for support. "Yet he takes more than his master is willing to give him."

"You blame a dog for lunging for the bone held before him?" Sylus teases. Sweat beads at his forehead, creates trails down his chest. The effort it takes not to speed up once more and take his fill is evident in the way he grips the pale flesh of your lover, digging fingertips in so harsh they will leave bruises later. "The poor pet only wanted his treat."

You huff, playing annoyed, but you can't fight your grin or your arousal any longer. "Then let's treat him, shall we?" You give Sylus a nod. Immediately, he draws back and rams forward into Zayne, so harshly his whole body shifts against the bed. His pace doesn't relent. The gleam of lubricating oil decorates his veiny cock as it pistons in and out of his tight hole. Zayne is caught between a whine and a moan as he doubles down in his efforts to taste and please you.

Sylus hooks Zayne's leg over his shoulder to reach deeper than before. Hand now free from holding said leg, he grabs your jaw and draws you into another kiss.

It's always a fight for dominance against him. You may be the Royal Highness, you may sit upon your throne, he may just be a consort - but that all means nothing in here. You fight for your own right to rule the bedroom.

He bites your lip harshly, nearly breaking the soft skin, before sucking it between his lips. You suck his upper lip into your mouth, biting just as harshly on his cupid's bow. Angling his head, he kisses you deeply, delving his tongue into your mouth, eager to claim his dominance over you tonight.

Maybe you put up a good fight, or maybe you choose to let him win. Regardless, the outcome is the same. He draws from you, hand roughly holding the back of your neck to push your face down, until you are face to face with Zayne's needy cock.

"Return the favor to our beloved," he commands in a growl. "Lick him."

Zayne can feel your cunt clench around his tongue from his order. Your hands support yourself on his thigh and hip as you obey. You lick a long stripe from the base of his dick to the head, sucking lightly at his dripping slit and prodding it with the tip of tour tongue.

"Good, Your Highness. How much can you take of him tonight, I wonder?"

His hand releases your neck to grip your hair. You have just enough time to open your mouth wide and relax your throat before you're shoved down onto his cock. It twitches against the back of your throat, blocks your airway, nearly makes you gag with the sudden intrusion.

Zayne pulls your pussy closer to his mouth as he jerks his hips upward. This time you do gag, tears springing to your eyes. Sylus lifts you up, giving you a second to breathe as he addresses Zayne. "You won't last long now, will you, pretty boy?"

He answers in the way his fingers curl against your lower back, clutch at your ass cheek. Sylus chuckles breathlessly at the sight.

"Good boy. You want me to fill you?"

This time, he whimpers pitifully. His hips jerk again.

"You want to fill her pretty mouth?"

His cock twitches against your tongue as you lightly suck around him. He whines something that almost sounds like, "Please."

"I think you've earned it."

Sylus guides your head. You bob on Zayne's dick, slower than his own thrusts, reduced to a mere toy to be commanded and controlled at his will. Zayne frees one hand to press his fingers inside your sweet pussy, so soaked he doesn't have to wait to use multiple fingers. He thrusts them into you desperately, curling them into your g-spot perfectly as he does so, but his mouth on your clit fights to keep a slower pace. The difference works to draw you quickly toward your release.

Sylus adores this. Adores watching his partners pleasure each other under his watchful eye. The drool that drips down your chin as he guides you up and down Zayne's shaft and the way you rock your hips against his face. Zayne's interspersed breaths when he can no longer go without air and his hips constantly trying to meet his thrusts and your mouth. The wet sounds of it all. The way he can watch his cock disappear into his lover, over and over, feel him clench around him as he gets closer and closer to finally reaching his orgasm. It's maddening. It's addicting. He wishes he could stay here forever.

But forever doesn't last. And it's eternally better that it doesn't.

How else would he feel Zayne clench so tightly around him as his cock twitches and shoots hot strands of his cum down your throat? How else would he hear your muffled moans and see your arching back as Zayne works you through your orgasm, fingering and sucking you until you're squirming? How else would he fuck into Zayne until his abs clench, his hips stutter, and he's buried himself as far as he can go to fill him with cum as deep as possible?

How else would he enjoy releasing you from his hold and watching the last, unswallowed bit of cum drip down onto Zayne's softening cock and messy stomach? How else would he help you roll onto the bed beside your partner to reveal Zayne's glistening chin and heaving chest? How else would he be able to slide out of his lover with a quiet hiss and watch his cum drip out of him and to the floor?

He gently lowers Zayne's leg from his shoulder and massages the tense muscles there. Zayne hums breathily to express his appreciation, still coming down from his high. You tiredly reach out for him, grabbing his arm to try pulling him down to join you. He chuckles, but does as you wish. Sweaty and messy and exhausted, and much too warm to cuddle, you all seek out each other regardless, until you're in a heap of heavy breathing and bodily fluids.

A knock sounds at the door. "Your Majesty? Lord Eldwin is requesting your presence! He wishes to discuss the-"

"Tell him kindly to choose a better time to discuss such matters!" you call back, not bothering to hide your aggravation. Your voice is slightly hoarse. She doesn't seem to notice.

"He insists, my lady! He refuses to leave until you meet with him!"

You sigh. You're in no shape to be meeting with this pompous idiot, mentally or physically.

Sylus chuckles lowly, too quietly for the handmaid to hear. "If he won't leave until you see him, then you can take as long as you want getting ready, hm?"

Zayne turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing his face to your neck. "It would be rude to leave a lord waiting."

"It is rude to demand the time of royalty," Sylus counters, smirking. "Especially when she's so occupied with much more interesting men than Lord Eldwin."

The maid knocks again. "Your Highness?"

You huff. "I'll see him as soon as I am ready."

"Would you like any assistance, my lady?"

Before you can answer, Zayne does for you. "Ready a large bath for Her Majesty."

The maid squeaks. It's no secret you have two lovers, but she certainly did not expect to hear a man's voice reply. "Y-Yes! Of course! Right away!" She scampers off, leaving you all behind to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"How long should we make him wait?" Sylus asks.

You hum, relaxing further against your lovers. "How long do you think it would take before he gives up?"

Zayne gives you a mildly disapproving stare, but it's immediately undermined when he says, "It will take ages to wash you, Your Majesty. We must be thorough." He peppers light kisses against your shoulder with a slight grin.

"And you must decide what to wear for such an occasion." Sylus sighs with faux melancholy as he sits up in order to lay across you both. His weight combined with the mess you've all made is slightly uncomfortable, but no less welcome.

"Not to mention Her Highness will need to rest after so much strenuous activity."

"So..." you trail off. "Tomorrow, then?"

Sylus chuckles. Zayne turns his head to kiss the man's shoulder. "We'll see."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko 

[reocidal]

stardust — r. itoshi

PAIRING: rin itoshi x fem!reader

CONTENT: actor au, fake dating, hurt/comfort, swearing, depressive spiral, might be ooc!!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

NOTE: @choccorin i love u, enjoy!

it starts off pretty harmless, this agreement. you've known rin for a while now, the longest out of anyone he's in contact with in the industry these days, so it's obvious that he'll come to you when he needs help. in this case, the problem here is his fans.

rin itoshi shoots up to stardom out of the blue, all golden champagne and party streamers and hordes of screaming fangirls scattered (generously) around the globe. he's not a bad actor, not at all, but no one really expected him to be as popular as he is now.

not that he goes viral for his acting — not at first, at least. it's actually a low quality video posted onto twitter by a fan that does the trick; she doesn't expect her innocent six-second recording to break containment like this. but rin, with his pretty face and long lashes and perfectly fitted dark clothing, bathed in some gala's brilliant lighting, somehow manages to capture the hearts of a few million people that night. and when they find out that not only is he gorgeous, but he's also good at what he does? jackpot. the fame he's suddenly achieved is nothing if not terrifyingly overwhelming.

however, despite the massive growth of followers that he experiences overnight, you know that you'll always love him more. and that is precisely why you say yes to what he asks of you.

you remember that day embarrassingly well, down to the fine details, like how your phone's battery was at 37%, and how rin'd had a queer expression on his face, not really his usual deadpan look, but not really anything else either.

"date me," rin itoshi tells you.

"excuse me?" this isn't happening, right? you've been horrendously in love with him for a few years now; surely this isn't how things are going to go! but even then, you're not sure if fate is on your side or not, because he shakes his head and continues, and dashes all your hopes in an instant.

"i'm not in love with you or anything," he clarifies. "i just need a fake girlfriend so some of these crazy people leave me alone."

"ah," you manage to say. you should refuse, tell him to find someone else. you've read enough romance novels to know exactly how this plays out, and just how painful it'll be for you. not to mention the fact that he's literally just told you that he doesn't have any feelings for you, to your face. everything tells you to not do it, but when have you ever been able to say no to him? "sure."

his lips curve into the briefest of smiles as he hears your answer. "thank you. we'll discuss this later, okay?"

"sure," you repeat, ignoring the way your stomach does an unceremonious flip at his smile. he nods and gets up, and you watch him leave, leave you behind, just as he always has.

and so it begins.

the routine the two of you follow is easy to slip into; acting like you're in love with him isn't difficult either, especially when you are in love with him.

to his credit, rin treats you perfectly on his part. despite keeping you at arm's length off-camera, he treats you like a princess otherwise, apologising a few hundred times for the media outrage caused by the reveal of your "relationship". and while it does hurt to be so close, yet so far from the one thing you crave, the way you're getting to see a softer — although probably fake — side of rin, and how he's treating you almost makes up for it.

and inside, everything stays (almost) the same, perfectly platonic and unchanged.

and the fangirls (somewhat) die down out of respect for his new relationship, so that's good, too. keep winning, rin itoshi.

you're scrolling social media one day when you stumble upon a video that's slowly but surely gaining more and more traction. it's about you and rin — specifically, your relationship. the person speaking breaks down every (visible) aspect of it, and comes to the conclusion that the two of you must be gaking things. the thought of this assumption (although true) becoming more widespread terrifies you; the last thing you want happening is rin's career being damaged like this. he's barely in his twenties and there's still so much left for him to do. you can't let him lose just yet. so, with shaking fingers, you send the video to him. rin leaves you on seen, but the next time you're seen in public together he kisses you, and your relationship is viral again, and you question your friendship for the very first time.

another day, another rich-people party. it's the usual, really, for you and rin — even though neither of you are particularly fond of this setting — as the two of you linger in a somewhat secluded corner of the room. rin's hand rests lightly on your waist just in case anyone turns their attention to you, but his mind seems to be elsewhere as he stares into the crowd. a sudden flash of light catches your eye, and you whisper-yell at him urgently. "rin."

he doesn't react, eyes still blank and unfocused.

"rin!"

he blinks, realising that you're talking to him.

"yeah?" he leans down to hear you better, face dangerously close to yours.

"cameras," you hiss.

his brows raise ever so slightly in understanding. "okay. can i kiss you?"

"what?"

"for the cameras, obviously," he deadpans. "i saw the video; surely you sent it to me for a reason and not just for me to watch, right?"

"right."

rin's hand leaves your waist so he can cradle your face with both hands and angle your face up. there's a guarded look in his eyes, something you can tell he's hiding. you don't know what, though, and it's not like you get any time to even think when he finally, finally leans down to kiss you. every thought in your brain evaporates into stardust as he presses his lips to yours. in front of you, a camera shutter snaps, but you can't really find it in yourself to care when all you can think of, all you can feel is the press of his lips on yours.

it takes exactly twelve sleepless nights after this (you've kept count) and one (1) conversation with your best friend to realise that this whole fake dating thing is taking a — negative, obviously — toll on your mental health, even more so as the lines between platonic and romantic begin to blur.

you'd thought the relationship was just for show. so why does rin bring you flowers on a bad day, even when there's no media around to see? he treats you like his girlfriend at home too, now, and it confuses you. rin itoshi is not your boyfriend, so why are you always in his clothes? and what's with all the physical contact? not that you mind, of course.

he's just gotten too absorbed into this relationship, you tell yourself. he doesn't know what he's doing to you. but you don't speak up about it, either. you let it continue.

but regardless of whose fault this is, the uurt that grows within you stays raw and heavy. he just has to be the one thing you cannot have, and it really is impossible to not fall for his (unintentional) boyish charm and the quiet concern he displays — for you and you only.

it's a particularly rough day, even worse than usual — which is concerning, considering that almost every day in the past two weeks has been the exact same level of bad, when everything comes crashing down. it's been terrible from the morning and you haven't even gotten out of bed yet, even though it's almost three in the afternoon. you're drifting in and out of unconsciousness; everything around you and your thoughts and feelings are all coated in an uncomfortable haze.

a tentative knock on your door rouses you awake and you blink. why's there someone in your apartment? is this a break-in? who could it possibly— oh. rin.

your mind flashes back to a certain moment a few months ago, so fast it gives you whiplash. you're half-collapsed onto a bar stool by your kitchen counter, rin kneeling in front of you as he examines your bruised ankle.

"you should really be more careful," he murmurs, and your heart aches at the tenderness in his tone as he gently presses the icepack against the bruise.

cold seeps through your ankle as he holds it there, and eventually you wince; he must've gotten distracted and forgotten to pull away.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he whispers, uncharacteristically nervous and breathless. the apology forces itself out of his mouth, words tumbling over each other in their haste. "did i hurt you?"

you shake your head, and although he sighs disbelievingly, he does not argue.

"how do i return your key?" he asks you as he's about to leave. you're a bundle of blankets on your sofa, unable to move, so he's locking your door for you. your best friend's coming to take care of you soon — she also has a key to the apartment, so you'll be fine. besides, it's an extra one, anyways.

so you take a deep breath and hope you won't regret it when you wave him away with a laugh and tell him to keep it. he nods, although expressionless, and says a simple, flat bye before he leaves. you wonder if you're delusional or if the tips of his ears really did turn red when you told him to take the key with him.

your best friend is halfway across the world right now; it's obvious that it's rin who's standing outside your bedroom door.

another knock. rin clears his throat, like he's about to speak; you narrowly beat him to it. "don't come in, i-i'm okay!"

"oh."

you cough a little as you speak, wincing at the dryness of your throat and how rough your voice sounds.

"you don't sound okay," he adds a moment later, painfully stiff. "you weren't answering your calls or anything so i got— i mean, i came to check up on you."

"i see," you respond quickly. why is it so awkward today?

rin clears his throat again. "are you sure you're okay?"

your throat tightens; you do not respond — you cannot respond. rin reads your silence perfectly, almost too well. he does not speak again, but you hear a single step (forward?) outside your door. and the doorknob twists, and the door creaks open.

you are buried in an unkempt mess of bedsheets and blankets. when rin finally sees you, his eyes widen.

you burst into tears.

rin has never been good at comforting people. today, he doesn't even know what's wrong. unsure of what to do, he just stares at you owlishly for a moment before taking a hesitant step in your direction. when you don't stop him, he moves closer. and when you nestle into his side as he wraps his arm around you, he deduces that he must be doing something right.

the warmth of his presence is unfairly comforting; you cannot help but lean into him, breathing slowly becoming calmer as his thumb rubs circles into your shoulder.

eventually you stop crying, though not without the embarrassment of having a whole entire mental breakdown in front of your beloved rin itoshi, about said beloved rin itoshi.

rin lets the silence stew for a second or two; you feel him swallow from where your head is now tucked in the crook of his neck.

"what was that all about?" he pulls back slightly, loosening his hold on you as you stiffen at his question.

oh. well, now or never, right?

"rin," you begin. "i don't think i can do this fake dating thing anymore."

"oh. why not?"

he's quiet, but there's no particular inflection or change in his tone.

you shrug. "it's not working for me anymore, i guess. too busy these days."

he opens his mouth to speak, then exhales slowly instead. "okay."

"cool."

"okay," he repeats. "then we'll end the agreement tonight."

"why tonight?" confusion colours your tone as you finally look up at him. when his teal eyes meet yours again, his lips twitch into a small smile.

rin works careful and methodical, starting the cleanup from one end of your room. technically he's still your (fake) partner, and you've done so much in the public eye — the amount of pictures of you and rin scattered across the internet borders on obscene — so surely you can let him do one little thing in private, right?

"let me do this for you, yeah? you've done so much for me these past few months, let me pay you back."

it's mortifying, but you let him fix up your room anyways. and when he leads you to your bathroom, you follow along obediently, watching as he fixes the water temperature and leaves you to clean yourself up while he prepares something for you to eat.

the hot water washes away a surprisingly large amount of the discomfort you've been feeling as of late, and it's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders by the time you see rin again.

long-limbed 6'1" rin itoshi, dressed fully in shades of black and blue, rin looks incredibly awkward and out of place in your kitchen. it's a quaint little place, decked out in pink and brown hues, but a total contrast to him. it makes you let out a little huff of laughter, and you swear rin smiles when he hears it.

there's a plate of your favourite food placed in front of you; rin sits downon the chair opposite you.

"eat. there's something i want to talk to you about."

anxiety pools in your stomach — there's no way he knows, right? you should've never done this; you're no better than all those fangirls he'd been trying to get away from in the first place. and if he knows this, he— wait, is this his way of saying goodbye? it makes sense now — anyone would feel the same after a betrayal of trust like this.

he lets you finish eating before—

"i lied. to you. i'm sorry."

what?

he refuses to meet your eyes, gaze fixed on the table of front of him. the tips of his ears are very, very red.

"about what?" you manage to ask. this is not how you'd expected this to go.

"i, um." he's half-hiding his face with a hand; what you can see nonetheless is flushed, like he's running a fever. except he's not ill, just shy. really, what's happening? "i didn't need— fuck, i shouldn't have listened to shidou, i knew it was stupid!"

"rin?"

"ugh. i just— iaskedshidouforadviceandhesaidthebestwaytoknowifyoulikemebackisthisandi'msorryididn'tmeanforyoutogethurt—"

"wait, like you back? as in you like me?"

"oh." well, now that he's said that out loud now, what's next? he can't exactly take it back, can he? but to his surprise, you look pleased. like you wanted this. "um. yes."

"oh! rin, don't apologise!" you exclaim, much to his chagrin. (are you patronising him right now?) "i also have some explaining to do."

he cocks his head in confusion; you can see the question marks hovering above his head.

"you didn't exactly hurt me by fake dating me or whatever; i was sad 'cause you were sending me a bunch of mixed signals, y'know."

"huh? i was?"

"yeah? you said you weren't into me, but then you did all sorts of stuff that implied that you did like me."

"that's cause i do like you though."

you choke.

he seems to have regained composure again as he raises a brow at you. "you don't like me, though?"

"i do!" you squeak. "i've liked you this whole time— wait, you said it was shidou who told you to do this?"

"mhm, why?"

"he knows i like you, though!"

rin grits his teeth, pushing his chair back as he gets up. "no way, that fucking bastard… i'm going to go kill him right now."

"wait, rin."

he pauses. "what?"

"can you kiss me again, but for real this time?"

his eyes widen, just a little. "oh. okay. yeah."

when rin gets to your side of the table, he just stands there, staring down at you with unbridled adoration in his eyes, all the feelings that he no longer needs to hide. you recognise it now — it's that same look from the night he'd first kissed you. all of this almost overwhelms you, and in the end the only thing you can really muster up is a simple "hi."

rin smiles, fingers gently tilting your chin up. "hey."

and when he bends down to kiss you, it's even better than the last time. because this time it's real.

800 follower event.

© reocidal 2025.

[earthchica]

Everything I Ever Wanted

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: It's been a month since you and Terry welcomed your son, Elijah; both of you have been adapting to parenthood pretty amazingly. However, five months in, tensions arise as you feel overwhelmed by handling most household responsibilities and caring for your son. This imbalance leads to a big argument between you and Terry.

warnings: explicit smut (18+), oral (m), loving making, birthday sex, rough sex, praise kink, choking kink, fluff, domestic life, time skip, angst, mention of postpartum depression, slight communications issues, foul language, argument, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, mama, pretty girl & more ] words: 7k

note: I don't know...I really love writing these two, so we're continuing their story. please enjoy and there may be some errors.

sequel mini series to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist

-

It's been a few weeks since you two brought your precious son, Elijah, home, and the transition has been exciting and challenging, but you and Terry have worked seamlessly as a team, diligently tackling every sleepless night and diaper change.

Besides that, Elijah is an easy baby, though he tends to wake up frequently during the night, yet somehow manages to sleep through much of the morning and into the afternoon. This odd schedule has led you and Terry to refine it soon.

Today had unfolded beautifully, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the living room windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden light. The warmth of the sun felt comforting, creating an inviting atmosphere.

Your parents had come over for a visit, eager to spend time with Elijah again. Laughter and joyful chatter filled the air as they engaged with him, delighting in his coos and how his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Look at you, Eli, such a cutie pie! Yes, you are!” Your mom coos lovingly at her grandson, her voice filled with warmth. Beside her, your dad beams with pride, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"I can't help but agree with you, honey. He's absolutely precious," your dad remarked with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with affection. You glanced over at Terry, and in that moment, you exchanged knowing smiles, both delighting.

“You both did such a wonderful job! You made such a beautiful, healthy baby boy, our first grandson," your mom adds, her eyes shimmering with tears of happiness.

“Oh, don’t cry, Mama,” you said gently, moving to rub her shoulder reassuringly. She wipes away a tear and nods, her smile returning, a reflection of the love that fills the room.

“I just can’t believe how fast time flies,” she continues, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “One minute I was holding you as a baby, and now I’m here holding your little one. It feels surreal.”

Terry smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “We’re just so thankful he’s here, and we couldn’t have done it without both of you. Your support means the world to us.”

Your mom beams and then adds, “You know if you two ever need a break or some extra hands, your dad and I are here for you. We can help with babysitting, cooking—whatever you might need! I’d love to take care of my grandson.”

You look at Terry and see the relief in his eyes. “That’s really generous of you, Mama. We would appreciate that a lot. It’s been overwhelming, but we’re figuring it out.”

“Of course! Don’t hesitate to ask, honey,” Your mom says, her enthusiasm unwavering. “I know how challenging those first few months can be. I remember when we had you; the sleepless nights were brutal. But it was all worth it, seeing you grow.”

“We’d love to have you two over whenever you can; the door is always open,” Terry said with a light smile. “We could use a little break now and then,” He added.

"Yeah, you don't forget to find a good balance. Make sure to carve out some quality time together, maybe plan regular date nights every so often to keep that connection strong between you two," your dad suggested, offering his wisdom.

Terry turned to you, a contemplative expression on his face. “That’s true,” he acknowledged. “Yeah, but I'm still a bit scared about leaving him. We’re also just figuring this all out as we go along.” You sighed, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders.

Your mom, ever the pillar of support, gently patted your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “That’s completely natural, honey! You’re navigating a lot right now but doing wonderfully already. Trust your instincts and know your limits; always listen to what feels right for you.”

Her eyes sparkled with comfort and encouragement. “Remember, we’re just a phone call away if you need us. We want to be involved and support you as best as possible.”

“Thanks, Mama. That really means a lot to me,” you replied, feeling gratitude and comfort wash over you. At that moment, wrapped in this bubble of love and support from your family, you couldn’t help but feel reassured

After their visit, you and Terry finally settled down for dinner. You had already fed Elijah before the family arrived, and while he dozed peacefully in his tiny bassinet by you, both of you enjoyed a quiet meal.

You cut into your chicken, glancing over at Terry, who adores Elijah sleeping. “yo, I still can’t believe how well Eli took to his new sleep routine,” Terry said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Like...remember those first few nights? We were both so damn exhausted!” He added, making a silly expression.

You chuckled. “Yeah, it felt like we had entered a marathon. But now, we’re finally getting the hang of it. It’s great seeing him so peaceful.” You nodded toward the bassinet, where Elijah stirred slightly but remained asleep.

Terry smiled. “He really is an easy baby. I heard some parents struggle for months. We really lucked out.” He paused, and his expression turned serious.

"I was talking to my mom earlier, and she mentioned how she felt depressed after I was born; she didn't think she would get out of it if it wasn't for my dad and proper therapy. It made me wonder if you are feeling like too?” He asked, looking at me curious.

You set down your fork, the question hanging in the air, and you took a deep breath, feeling guilt wash over you. You hadn't intended to hide your feelings from Terry, but the whirlwind of emotions that came with new parenthood had left you feeling unmoored.

“I… I did feel a bit overwhelmed in those first few weeks,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze momentarily. “There were nights when I hid in the bathroom downstairs, just couldn’t stop crying, you know? It was like all the stress and exhaustion piled on top of the joy of having our baby.”

Terry’s brow furrowed with concern, but he nodded. “I wish you would’ve told me, baby. I wouldn’t have been upset; I just want to be here for you, especially now that we’re married and we have a family. We’re a team.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart swell. “I know, Terry. I didn’t want to add to your worries, especially with everything else happening. I thought I could manage it alone, and it felt… silly to feel that way when we have this beautiful son.”

Terry reached across the table, taking your hand gently. “It’s not silly at all, baby. It’s a huge transition; you don’t have to pretend everything’s always okay. I’m your husband, and I want us to share the good moments and the tough ones, too.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a bit of the weight lift. “You’re right. I should be more open; I'm still learning that, but I’m relieved to say I’m not feeling that way anymore. It’s getting easier every day. I think I was shocked at first and scared… but I want you to know that I’m okay now.”

“Good,” Terry said, his expression softening. “But please promise me that you'll talk to me if you start feeling like that again or any kind of way. We gotta be completely honest with each other. We can face anything as long as we’re open about it.”

You nodded, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes. “I promise. It’s just… this new journey we’re in, it’s like it’s made up of all these conflicting emotions. I love being a wife and mother, but it’s also a lot of pressure.”

Terry smiled gently. “It is. And we’re figuring it out together. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. If you ever need to vent or cry or just take a break, I’m here, baby, and I love you. We’ll make it through all of it, hand in hand.”

Feeling reassured, "I love you, too, Terry, so much." A soft smile crossed your face, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the depth of your strong connection.

Once dinner concluded, and after indulging in a few light-hearted movies, you noticed that Elijah was still curled up, sound asleep. Deciding it was time for him to be tucked in, Terry gently picked him up to carry him to the nursery.

The soft coos and gentle sounds from the baby monitor filled the air, and a warmth spread through your heart as you listened to Terry's soothing voice.

“Goodnight, little man; Daddy loves you so much,” Terry whispered tenderly, gently kissing Elijah's forehead before quietly retreating from the nursery, leaving the door slightly ajar.

With a soft smile still lingering on your face, you walked to the bathroom to complete your nightly routine. You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and carefully wrapped your hair in a bonnet, feeling the day's exhaustion wash over you.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Terry already settled in bed, waiting for you. You crawled under the covers and snuggled into his chest, feeling safe and content as he leaned over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into comforting darkness.

As the gentle glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light in the room, Terry leans closer, brushing a soft kiss against your cheek. With a tender whisper, he softly says, "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you,"

His voice is warm and soothing, wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You turn to him, a smile spreading across your face, and reply, "Goodnight, baby. I love you too!"

-

three months later.

As the soft light of dawn began to spill into the room, you stirred awake, feeling the cool sheets beside you and realizing Terry was already up.

The familiar hum of bike tires on pavement whispered through the open window, reminding you of his early morning routine. A smile crept across your face as you realized today felt extra special

— it was Terry's birthday.

You stretched and yawned, the warmth of anticipation bubbling up within you. With a silent promise to keep the surprises under wraps, you slipped out of bed and quietly padded downstairs to the living room.

The air was fresh and crisp, and you began carefully arranging the decorations you had picked out over the past few days. Balloons of black and green adorned the walls, while a “Happy Birthday Terry” banner hung cheerfully above the couch.

Nearby, you carefully placed the birthday gifts, ensuring each was perfectly wrapped and waiting for his eager eyes. Once the decorations were set, you decided to get Elijah from his crib.

You breathed before going upstairs and down the hallway, your heart swelling with excitement. Opening the nursery door gently, you peeked in to find him peacefully sleeping, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

You couldn’t resist leaning over to press a soft kiss on his forehead, eliciting a small sigh from him as he stirred. “Good morning, my beautiful boy,” you whispered gently.

You lifted him from his crib. Elijah blinked sleepily at you, his eyes wide and bright, sparkling with joy at the sight of you. “Look who’s awake!” you said with a cheer, cradling him against your chest as he stretched his little arms and let out a delighted coo.

“Did you know it’s Daddy’s birthday today?” you beamed at him, your heart melting at his baby gurgles. “We have some fun surprises planned, little man!”

Elijah’s face broke into an adorable smile, his eyes dancing with delight as you continued talking to him, explaining everything you had planned for his father's special day.

As you carried him back into the living room, he kicked his legs, clearly excited about the decorations, reaching out to touch the balloons as they floated gently on the ceiling.

Once settled on the couch, you nestled Elijah against you, pointing out the colors. “Look, Eli! Black and green!” He babbled back as if he understood and wanted to join the conversation, his eyes reflecting pure happiness.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention, and you glanced up to see Terry walk in. His body was slightly shaking from the morning cold, and a bright smile lit up his face as he quickly glanced at you.

“Hey there, Birthday King!” you cheered, lifting Elijah slightly to catch his father’s attention. His eyes widened in disbelief as he absorbed the decorations fluttering in the morning light.

Terry’s eyes traveled from you to Elijah, and his smile widened even more.

“Yo, you did all this for me?” Terry exclaimed, a laugh escaping him as surprise painted his features. "Yeah, of course, happy birthday, baby. I wanted to make today special for you. You deserve it all and more.

“Also, someone who wants to say ‘Happy Birthday’!” You leaned down, holding Elijah out toward him, and the sight of Terry's boyish grin melting into a look of pure love made your heart swell.

“Happy Birthday, Daddy! I love you so much!” you said in a baby voice. Terry laughed and gently took Elijah in his arms, peppering him with kisses as the baby squealed in response, his tiny hands reaching for his father’s face.

“This is amazing! Thank you, sweetheart!” He said, leaning down to give you a soft kiss, the warmth of his lips lingering just a moment longer, filling you with warmth.

“Glad you like it,” you replied shyly, “I wanted to surprise you right after your bicycle ride.”

“Nah, I love it, and I appreciate it; I appreciate you,” Terry chuckled, looking back at the decorations with pure gratitude. You felt a surge of happiness that today was all about him.

“Haha, good...Now Terry, let’s have breakfast!” you started with a giggle. “How does breakfast burrito sound?” You asked, guiding him to the kitchen and putting Elijah in his cute little high chair.

“Mmm...breakfast burrito sounds good!” Terry replied enthusiastically. “if I'm being honest, I could eat a mountain of them right now.”

“I’ll whip them up, and you can handle Elijah’s breakfast,” you suggested, glancing down at him. Elijah watched, his big hazel eyes touching the joyful atmosphere, cooing softly.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart!” Terry said, turning towards the bottle warmer and preparing Elijah’s bottle. He expertly filled it, the familiar routine filling the air with comfort.

“You know, I’m grateful,” he said, glancing back at you with a soft sparkle in his eyes. “Not just because of my wonderful birthday surprise, but because I wake up every day to my beautiful family.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a fluttering warmth spreading as you started making the ingredients for the breakfast burritos. “Well, we’re grateful to have you, too,” you replied, smiling at him.

“You’re the best dad and husband anyone could ask for, T,” You said, reaching over to kiss his cheek, and he shyly smiled. “I do my best,” he said with a light chuckle, holding the bottle to Elijah’s mouth.

The baby eagerly latched on, and as you watched the two of them, your heart felt full. With the smell of bacon and eggs beginning to waft through the kitchen.

You flipped the first burritos, the golden brown surface looking just right. Elijah finished his bottle, and Terry gently patted his back. A small burp echoed, causing both you and Terry to laugh.

“That's my little man,” Terry said, kissing Elijah’s forehead again. The burritos were done with excitement and love. Terry placed a smiling Elijah back in his high chair, positioning the bib around him.

"Was it good, Eli?” you asked, smoothing his curly hair as the three of you gathered around the table. Terry grabbed burritos and turned back to you.

“Thank you for this. This morning is already one of my favorites.” He said, and you smiled, your heart swelling once more. “You're welcome, baby.”

"Was it good, Eli?" you asked, smoothing his curly hair as the three of you gathered around the table. Terry grabbed burritos and turned back to you.

"Thank you for this. This morning is already one of my favorites, " he said, and you smiled, your heart swelling again. "You're welcome, baby."

After breakfast, Terry cleared the table, and you picked up Elijah since he wanted to be held by you. Once he finished the dishes, you three moved into the living room.

"So what do you want to do for your birthday, today?" You asked softly, and he turned to you with a light smile on his face as he gave it a thought.

“You know, I was hoping we could sneak away for a bit—maybe see that movie we’ve been discussing? Just the two of us.” Terry answered with a nod.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also a bit hesitant. “But what about Elijah? He’s still so little…” You said with a sigh, and Terry still smiled warmly, leaning in closer.

“That’s why I thought we could call your parents and see if they could take him for a few hours. I know they love spending time with him, and it would give us some much-needed alone time.”

You considered it momentarily, biting your lip as you glanced at Elijah, who was now giggling at the little plush toys hanging from his play gym

“You know what? Let's do it, shit, it's your birthday. They'll actually be thrilled to have a little time with him,” you said with a nod, trying to shake off any lingering doubts.

“Let's go!!!! I’ll call them right now,” Terry said, his excitement contagious. You watched as he grabbed his phone, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Terry stepped a bit away to talk, leaving you to play with Elijah, who was happy cooing and made it hard not to smile. A few minutes later, Terry returned, his expression lit up.

“They’re on their way! Said they can’t wait to see him,” he said, and the both of you chuckled at how eager your parents were to dote on their grandson.

-

When your parents arrived, they walked in with greetings of warm hugs and kisses on the cheek and happy birthdays to Terry, instantly melting your heart as they fussed over Elijah.

“Look at our big boy!” your mom said, tickling him lightly, which sent him into fits of giggles. You grab all the stuff that you think they would need.

Before they left, they turned to you, sensing a little of your worry. “You know we’ve got this,” your dad said reassuringly, giving you a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.

“Don’t stress. You two deserve some time together; enjoy your birthday, Terry. Elijah will be just fine with us.” He added more, and your mom chimed in as well.

“And we promise to take lots of pictures! You’ll see; everything is going to be just great,” She said with a smile, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you.

“Thank you, Mama and Dad. It means a lot to us that you’re willing to take him,” you said, your voice sincere as Terry stood beside you, wrapping an arm around your plump waist.

After they left, you and Terry got ready and were on your way out for his birthday. The car ride to the movie theater felt like a burst of fresh air, filled with light-hearted banter between you and Terry.

“What do you think? You think this movie is gonna be any good?” Terry asked, pulled smoothly into the parking lot. You could hardly contain your enthusiasm.

“Definitely! I’ve heard some really good things about it,” you replied, a joyful flutter in your chest. You and Terry got out of the car and eagerly made your way toward the grand entrance of the theater.

The excitement in the air was palpable as you purchased two tickets, Next, you approached the concession stand, the mouthwatering aroma of freshly popped popcorn enveloping you two.

You and Terry grabbed a large bag of fluffy popcorn, skittles, M&M's, and two icy drinks, each clinking lightly as you and Terry juggled them toward the screening room.

As you stepped into the dimly lit theater, the soft glow of the screen illuminated the space, and you could hear the low hum of chatter mixed with the sound of previews playing in the background.

You chose a comfortable seat, sinking into the plush cushioning beside him. You couldn't help but feel giddy with anticipation for the movie to start.

The movie was a hilarious romantic comedy. During the funny moments, you found yourselves laughing, giggling, and playful nudges, Terry; you enjoyed this time you both had togather.

“That was so good!” Terry exclaimed, turning to you with a sparkling grin, and you nodded. You nodded in agreement, still buzzing from the excitement of the film.

As you stepped out of the theater into the cool evening air, you pulled out your phone and noticed several messages from your mom, each accompanied by adorable pictures of Elijah.

Eagerly, you swiped through the images, each capturing the little moments of his day—his cherubic smile, tiny fingers curled around a toy, and that sweet, peaceful expression he wore while napping.

You turned the screen towards Terry, who leaned in to get a better look. he smiled and gazed at the photos. “See, there’s nothing to worry about!” he said, a look of relief washing over him.

“Yeah!....So where to next, my king?” you asked, flashing a playful smile that lit up your face. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow around you, and the excitement in the air was palpable.

“How about Dave & Buster's?” Terry suggested, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled, making you wonder if he could no longer contain his excitement.

“I can’t wait to beat your high score in air hockey,” he declared confidently, a mischievous glint in his eye. You gasped in mock disbelief, tilting your head as if contemplating his challenge seriously.

“Oh, nah, baby! Good luck with that, haha! You do realize I’m the reigning champion, right?” you teased, laughter bubbling up as you struck a pose, pretending to bask in your glory.

“We’ll see about that,” Terry replied, a smirk playing on his lips, his competitive spirit ignited. It was clear that the rivalry was only beginning, and you couldn’t wait to see how it unfolded.

-

Once at Dave & Buster's, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The two of you dived into the arcade, trying your hands at different games. The sound of laughter and the clinking of tokens filled the air as you challenged each other to various contests.

You spent more time than you’d like to admit racing against each other in virtual go-karts and trying to win substantial stuffed animals from claw machines.

You even shared a few sweet moments, like when Terry won a miniature robot and presented it to you with an exaggerated bow.

“For my beautiful queen, from the finest arcade in town,” he declared dramatically, and you giggled, kissing his cheek.

As a final showdown, you headed to the air hockey table. The chatter around faded as you focused on each hit, your competitiveness fueling both your laughter and playful banter.

“Prepare to be dethroned!” Terry joked, his eyes gleaming with determination, but you managed to outscore him again. As the game ended, you jumped up victoriously, doing a little dance.

“Once again, I’m the queen of air hockey!” you teased, doing the running man dance, and he playfully pretended to sulk. “Alright, alright, you win this time,” he laughed, pulling you into an embrace.

“But next time, I’m definitely coming for that crown!” Terry said, wrapping his arms around your shoulder.

After enjoying some food and a few more games, you both left with big smiles and full hearts, reminiscing about all the fun you had that day.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in beautiful hues of pink and orange as you made your way back home, still buzzing with joy.

When you arrived home, you gently opened the door, revealing your cozy living room. “You know, I think this might have been the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Terry said, wrapping an arm around your plump waist as you walked inside.

“Wait, there’s one more surprise,” you said, biting your lip to hide your excitement. You glanced at him and motioned towards the bedroom.

“I love surprises!” Terry said, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Why don’t you wait on the bed? I'll be in the bathroom?” You said both of you walked into your shared bedroom.

Terry sat on the bed and grinned widely, and you slipped into the bathroom to change into something special. You retrieved the white lace lingerie you had tucked away.

You had bought it a year ago, never expecting you’d wear it until today. As you put it on, the fabric felt soft against your dark-brown skin.

You smiled at your reflection, feeling a mix of horny and excitement. After a moment, you took a deep breath and left the bathroom. The dim light casting a gentle glow revealed yourself to Terry.

The look on his face was priceless—his jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes widened in pure delight. “Fuck,” he breathed, and he had a smirk spreading.

“You look absolutely sexy, baby. Is this all for me?” You felt a rush of warmth at his words, stepping forward to close the distance between you.

“Yes! Happy Birthday, King,” you said softly, bursting with love. “I think I’ve just found the best part of my birthday,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around your waist as he leaned in for a kiss, tongue dancing togather as his hand gripped your round of ass.

You moaned, pulled away from the kiss, and gave Terry a sly grin, pushing him back onto the bed. Feeling excited, you walk over to your phone and put some seductive Bluetooth music on.

You swayed your hips to the beat, making your way over to him and straddling his lap. Terry let out a low groan as you ran your hands down his chest, teasingly tracing the outline of his muscles.

You leaned close to his ear, your breath hot against his skin as you whispered, "Enjoying your birthday so far, big daddy?" before gently biting his earlobe.

“More than I could have ever imagined, baby,” Terry groaned, grasping your breasts. You continued to move sensually against him, feeling yourself getting more turned on by his reactions.

You couldn't help but smile at how much he was enjoying this. Slowly, you began to grind against him, feeling the heat between your bodies grow with each movement.

Terry's hands found their way down to your hips, guiding your movements as he let out a string of curses under his breath. ”Fuck, baby girl, I need you,”

You feel the bulge in his pants growing harder by the second and decide it is time for a change of pace and stand up, swaying your hips seductively as you slowly strip off the lingerie piece by piece.

Terry's eyes roamed hungrily over your plump, curvy body, desire evident in every line of his face. When you were entirely naked, you climbed back onto his lap, feeling the electricity between you both intensify with each touch.

“How do you want me, Terry? You know I love pleasing you; it is my favorite thing.” You said softly, and a primal growl escaped Terry's lips as he fixated his dark, lust-filled eyes on you.

His body trembles with desire at your question, and he pushes you down to your knees in front of him. "I need that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me, baby," he demands, his hands caressing himself through his pants.

You bite your lip, feeling the wetness between your legs intensify as you quickly unbutton his pants and pull them down along with his boxers.

With a sly smile, you leaned forward and took his throbbing dick in your hands, and began stroking him, lathering him up by licking your hand.

You took him in your mouth, feeling his hand thread through your curly hair as he let out a deep moan. You moved your head up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke.

You love using your tongue to tease and please him. “Mmm…I always love the way you taste, Terry,” You said, taking him out of your mouth for a second.

Terry's eyes rolled back in pleasure as you continued to work your magic on him. His grip on your curly hair tightened, guiding you deeper and faster.

You pulled away with a gasp, saliva dripping from your mouth, and asked, “Mmm, talk to me Daddy how does it feel?” hitting his dick on your face before sucking at his balls

Terry's breaths were coming out in heavy pants as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. "It feels fucking amazing, baby," he groaned, his hips moving involuntarily as you took him back into your mouth.

You moaned in response, the vibrations sending shivers down Terry's spine. Your hands continued to stroke and tease him, making him ache for more.

Terry couldn't resist any longer and tightened his grip on your hair, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. "Oh fuck, yes," he grunted, his hips thrusting faster now.

You could feel him getting closer, and you knew just how to push him over the edge. You used your tongue to trace patterns on his dick while sucking harder, causing Terry to cry out in pleasure.

"Damn it, sweetheart" he exclaimed as he spilled into your mouth. His body shook with release, and you swallowed every drop of his cum before sitting up and licking your lips.

"Mmm, your cum tastes so sweet," you said with a sly smile. Terry pulled you up onto the bed and flipped you onto your back, his eyes burning with desire as he hovered over you.

"I need to be inside of you right now,” Terry growled before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He wasted no time in entering you, causing you both to moan, and you wrapped your thick legs around his waist.

Terry's thrusts were slow and deep, hitting all the right spots inside of you. Each one sent waves of pleasure through your body, making you moan louder and arch your back in ecstasy.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Does it feel good, baby?" Terry groaned, rising up as his hands gripped your wide hips tightly. He couldn't get enough of you; how you felt around him was like nothing else.

“Ah, yes, yes, fuck” You moaned, placing your hands around his wrist as he continued to thrust inside of you but still slowly. The room was alive with the sound of flesh softly smacking together, accompanied by your moans and his deep grunts.

"Oh, Terry, I love you to death, and I'm so grateful for everything you do. You're such an amazing man," you gasped out between breaths as he showed you exactly how much he loved you in return.

This man was more than just a husband, he was your everything, and nothing could change that. “Shit, baby, if you keep talkin' to me like that, I might nut another baby in but I'll save that for another time,”

Terry's muscles rippled as his eyes locked on yours with intense desire. The room around you was a blur as you focused on him, seeing the pleasure on his face.

“Pleeease, speed it up, Daddy fuck me harder.” you moaned out as Terry's hands tightened around your plump waist. “Mm, my nasty girl wants it harder?”

He asked, looking down at you with a smirk before picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming almost animalistic as he hit all the right spots inside of you.

“Yess, just like that, fuck…fuck me.” you cried, your body trembling from the intense pleasure of the pace. Your fingers gripping onto Terry's broad shoulders as he thrusts harder inside of you.

His hands tightly gripped your hips, leaving marks in their wake. The plush bed sheets envelop you in a cocoon of comfort, the heat emanating from Terry's body seeping into your own.

Looking up at Terry again, his intense gaze penetrates through you like a laser beam, igniting a fire within your core. You flip him onto his back, and his dick slides back into your wet, throbbing pussy.

His face contorted with pleasure, and his hands gripped your waist tightly. You bounce on him, your movements wild and uninhibited, your bodies melded in a passionate rhythm.

"Shit, I love you" You cried, can't help but admire the handsome man beneath you, his features twisted with ecstasy as his strong hands caress your breasts, thumbs circling your hardened nipples.

Arching your back, you grind your hips down harder, taking him even deeper inside you. The delicious friction sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that, Daddy?" you purr, clenching around him. Your body is slick with desire, and you can feel your pussy pulsing for him. "You like how wet I am for you?"

Your voice dripping with need and longing. Each movement sends shivers of pleasure through your body, and you're unable to resist the urge to press closer against him, wanting to feel every inch of his skin against yours.

“Shit, shit, yes, yes,“ Terry grunts in response, gripping your hips and thrusting up to meet your movements. The new angle hits just the right spot, making you cry as you feel him wrap his hands around your neck.

“Bounce on that fucking dick, baby, bounce on that shit” Terry moans, his face contorted with pleasure and adores before his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a moan.

His chest rises and falls quickly as his body moves to meet yours. As you continue to ride him, you can feel your orgasm building, and you know that Terry is close, too.

The way his grip tightens on your neck, and his thrusts become more erratic tells you that he's reaching his peak. You lean forward, placing a hand on his chest for balance as you increase the tempo, feeling him filling you up completely with each thrust.

"You gonna cum for me, Daddy?" You moan into his ear, nipping at the lobe as your movements become more desperate. "You gonna fill me up with your hot cum, huh?"

Terry's response is a primal growl as he flips the two of you over, taking control once again. He pins your hands above your head, pounding into you with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

Each thrust brings you closer to the edge, and just when you think you can't take it anymore, Terry's lips crash onto yours in a passionate kiss.

Your body explodes in pleasure as Terry's release hits him, too, both of you crying out each other's names in ecstasy. Your bodies are slick with sweat as he collapses on top of you.

Both of you breathing heavily and riding out the waves of pleasure. "God damn," Terry says between pants, pecking kisses all over your face before pulling out and snuggling into bed beside you.

You turn to face him, smiling contentedly as you can see the sweat glistening on both of your bodies and the satisfied smile on his face. His eyes are filled with adoration as he gazes at you.

As you lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking, Terry brushes a strand of curls hair away from your face.

"I can't believe how blessed I am to have you; thank you. This was an amazing birthday, baby" Terry says, his voice filled with love and sincerity as he gazes into your eyes.

You smile softly, feeling your heart flutter at his words. "I’m glad you enjoy yourself, Terry; I love you," you reply, tracing circles on his chest with your finger.

"I love you too" Terry leans down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly. The kiss is slow and deep, conveying all the emotions that words can't express.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body as you pull him closer, surrendering entirely to the moment. The world around you fades into the background, leaving just the two of you.

Suddenly, the peace is interrupted by your phone ringing, jolting you back to reality. It’s a call from your parents, who are on their way home with Elijah.

The moment's warmth slips away as you both realize how quickly time has passed while you are wrapped up in each other. After the call, you and Terry decide to refresh yourselves.

You step into the shower together, steam rising as water cascades over your bodies, the lingering temptation of another round swirling in the air, but you got washed.

Once you’re both dressed, there is a sharp knock on the front door. The sound echoes through the space, signaling the return of your parents and Elijah.

You went to go, and open the door to find them standing there, smiling warmly, with your dad holding Elijah's colorful diaper bag in one hand.

Excited chatter fills the air as they express their eagerness to babysit again. You can’t help but smile at the joyous moments ahead as you take the baby bag from your dad, feeling grateful for them.

-

Terry sat comfortably in the cozy living room, a soft smile on his face as he held Elijah in his arms, gently cooing at your son and making him gurgle with delight.

As you carefully lit the candles on the birthday cake, the delicious scent of vanilla wafted through the air, blending with the excitement of the celebration.

You took a moment to glance at Terry and Elijah, savoring the heartwarming scene before returning your attention to the flickering flames atop the cake, ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to your husband.

You entered the living room, the familiar tune bubbling up from within as you began to sing. Terry's smile widened at the sound of your voice, a beautiful melody that filled the air with joy.

Fascinated by the flickering candles, Elijah stared in awe, his little face brightening. As you concluded the song, your voice melded effortlessly with the warmth radiating from the room.

"Make a wish, handsome," You said with a smile, and Terry laughed softly, the sound rich with love and appreciation.

Terry closed his eyes for a moment to make a wish, and with a deep breath, he blew out the candles, sending a gentle plume of smoke swirling into the air.

'Yeah!!! Happy Birthday, Terry" You cheered happily, joy radiating from you as you watched the sparkle in his eyes, reflecting his contentment and love on this special day.

-

three months later,

making it six months since you gave birth.

As the months rolled by, it was in the middle of summer now, and you found yourself deeply immersed in the new routine of motherhood. Elijah was now six months old, and his personality began to blossom.

Each day brought challenges and joys, but lately, you felt the weight of the day-to-day responsibilities resting heavily on your shoulders. It had been particularly tough since Terry returned to work not too long ago.

The warmth seeped into your skin as the sun shone brightly in the sky, refreshing your spirit. You packed a picnic basket with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some sliced apples, and a few cookies for a treat.

A soft blanket tucked under your arm, you walked to the park with Elijah nestled comfortably in his stroller, his tiny hands reaching up to the blue sky.

Once you arrived, you could hear the joyful sounds of children playing and laughter echoing around you. Finding a quiet spot under a large oak tree, you spread out the blanket and settled Elijah beside you.

His hazel eyes sparkled with curiosity as the gentle breeze rustled the leaves above. “Look at that, Elijah,” you smiled, pointing at a group of kids playing.

“Isn’t that amazing? One day, you’ll be over there with them.” You said, and Elijah cooed, kicking his little feet in excitement. You leaned down and tickled him, drawing forth a chorus of giggles.

“Would you like some yummy lunch?” you asked, reaching for a sandwich. As you offered him a few pieces of the soft bread, he leaned forward, trying to grab it with his tiny fingers.

His attempt was met with clumsiness and delight, the crumbs scattering on the blanket. A few moments passed of quiet enjoyment as you both munched on lunch.

You watched Elijah’s attention shift from the kites to the vibrant flowers blooming nearby. “Do you like the flowers, little man?” you asked softly with a giggle, noticing his wide-eyed wonder.

“They remind me of you��bright and full of life.” You said, kissing his forehead, and after the picnic, you lay back on the blanket, watching the clouds drift by.

Elijah babbled contentedly beside you, mimicking the sounds of nature. “You know, sometimes being a mom feels overwhelming, but moments like this make it all worth it,” you murmured softly.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice, “There you are!” It was Terry, looking a bit winded but incredibly happy to see you both. “I managed to leave work a little early. I wanted to surprise you guys!”

Elijah’s face lit up at the sight of his dad, and he wiggled with excitement. Terry knelt down, scooping up Elijah into his arms. “Hey, baby boy! How was your day?”

“It just got a lot better,” you replied, grinning. As the three of you settled back on the blanket, you felt the burdens of motherhood lift slightly.

After your delightful picnic, filled with laughter and sunshine, you all eventually returned home, savoring the remnants of the joy spent outdoors.

Soon you set about preparing dinner. You moved gracefully around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces while Terry kept a watchful eye on Elijah, who was happily playing with blocks on the living room floor.

As the two of you sat down to dinner, the table was beautifully set, and the warmth of the home enveloped you. You both talked about your days and how things were.

After finishing the meal, you rolled up your sleeves and tackled the clean-up together, the sound of clinking dishes and the warmth of togetherness filling the room.

You then turned your attention to Elijah, who was starting to squirm in his high chair. You went to change his diaper, the familiar routine providing a sense of contentment as he giggled at your playful face.

Meanwhile, Terry settled in in the living room, PS5 video game music punctuating the air. You felt grateful for the day, not expecting the lovely to suddenly take a turn for the worse.

"Terry?" You called from the top of the stairs, your voice echoing softly through the house. "What?" Terry shouted back from the living room, focused on the video game flashing before him.

"Where's Elijah's lion?" you asked, cradling your squirming son on your hip. You had been trying for the past hour to calm him down, and the soft cries coming from him were starting to wear you thin.

"I don't know; check under the couch," Terry replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders as if it were a minor inconvenience. His nonchalance infuriated you.

"Shh, it's okay, Eli. Look, it's Simba! You love that movie, don't you?" you encouraged, trying to distract your son while glancing underneath the couch for the stuffed animal.

"Mmm," Elijah murmured, seemingly comforted by your words. You sighed in relief as your fingers brushed against the soft fur of the Simba toy nestled between the dust bunnies.

"Look, Eli, look who I found," you said cheerfully as you handed him the toy. His face lit up, and he babbled happily, his tiny fingers gripping the toy tightly.

A wave of contentment washed over you, and you softly sang a lullaby, hoping it would lull him to sleep. Once, he was peacefully dozing in your arms.

You carefully laid him in his crib and headed back downstairs to confront Terry, feeling both exhausted and exasperated. "He's asleep?" Terry asked, still engrossed in his game.

The screen glowed brightly as he played. "Yeah, but maybe it would've been easier if you actually helped me," you said, descending the stairs with a slight edge in your voice.

"I do help; what do you mean? I just washed the dishes with you" Terry replied, pausing the game and looking at you with an attitude that sent another spike of frustration through you.

"Yeah, when you want to," you shot back, and he rolled his eyes, which only fueled your anger further. "Well, I work," Terry mumbled as if that was the end of the conversation.

"Excuse me?" you asked, standing before him with your hands firmly planted on your hips, refusing to back down. "You heard me, I'm not about to repeat myself."

"I work; I would love to just come home and relax. I put food on the table and clothes on our son's back, and I pay all the mutherfucka bills around here." Tery ranted on.

"Is it so bad to ask for some quiet time?" Terry snapped, his voice rising and echoing in the small living room. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Sure, the two of you had minor arguments here and there, but he had never spoken to you like this before.

"I understand what you're saying, Terry, and I tell you how grateful I am for you. But it's not like I'm asking for much! You may be the one who brings home the paycheck," You started, moving in front of him.

"But I'm the one who takes care of our son around the clock; I cook, clean, and manage everything at home. You aren't the only one who's working their butt off!" you raise your voice a little bit.

"What's gotten into you? You never had a problem with this before! Now it's a problem?" You questioned, your demeanor shifting as confusion filled your eyes.

"Maybe I'm just tired of you," Terry said softly, and suddenly, the air in the room felt heavy, as though a dam had broken, releasing all the pent-up frustrations.

"Okay, well, maybe you should've married someone else if I'm such a fucking burden," you retorted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

You dashed upstairs to your shared bedroom, trying to hold back tears. "Shit!" You heard him curse as he called out your name, but you didn't stop to listen.

You closed the bedroom door behind you with a decisive thud, sinking onto the edge of your king-size bed before you buried your face in your hands, feeling the tears coming down your face.

[angelixxsweetheart]

top!reader teasing Jinx about her height? (she is so tiny and cute afjdoihauda)

Youre just so...! - Jinx x top!reader

men and minors dni (wlw friendly space)

NSFW mentioned (mentions of strap)

mostly fluff

not my best because i didnt really feel like writing smut

The blue LED lights filled the hideout of a certain infamous criminal, illuminating the sight of two figures laying on the mattress which were enveloped in each others embrace underneath the quilts. Jinxs electric blue hair was sprawled around messily and not in the signature braids as she rested in your arms, her bare body pressed up against your own while your arms were gently wrapped around her neck.

Moments like these were the sweetest. Just a few minutes prior, both of you were moaning messes as you held down your girlfriend on her hips, merciless pounding your strap into her while sweet moans and whimpers left her lips. And now here you were, wrapped up in each others and just enjoying the closeness.

"Quick question" Her raspy yet soft voice interrupted the silence that had filled the hideout. You turned your head a little to look at her face almost stuffed between your breasts while she enjoyed the sound of your heartbeat, a prove that you were actually here and the entire moment was just as real.

"When are ya ever gonna let me take the lead?" She carried on, and you could only huff lightly. Jinx rarely ever took the lead in intimate moments. And the reason for that was that she was just too cute, atleast in your eyes. She was small, rather petite built and like some candy just waiting to get devoured. And you couldnt get enough of her and the way she looked when you made her cum.

"When you grow a few inches" You responded, earning a light jab into your side as Jinx propped herself up and hovered over you. "Really funny, toots" The blue haired woman responded with an eyeroll. "No, but for real. You like never let me do the work. Not that I dont enjoy what you do, i just kinda wanna pay you back..." She carried on, ranting about how she did not understand why it was always you on top.

You could only laugh lightly, shifting to rest on your back as you looked up at her, your hands finding her hips while Jinx made herself at home on your naked lap. "I just think youre cute" You responded to her ranting. She then raised an eyebrow. "Cute? Thats it?" Feigning annoyance as she could not get behind your reasoning. She thought you were cute too. So how did that add up?

"Yeah. Just wanna put you into my pocket and carry you around" You carried on, your thumbs rubbing over her hipbones while she straddled your lap, the blanket slipping down her shoulders and revealing her bare thin frame. "Stop talking about me like im some kinda pulshie" She then said but without any malice in her tone. You lightly laughed again. "Have you looked at yourself, angel?" You then asked.

Jinx raised an eyebrow in response, looking down at you while awaiting your response. "Youre just so pretty and beautiful and cute and just so..." You could barely keep talking, the cuteness aggression almost getting the best of you as your hand began to massage the flesh of her hips. The other one found the many cloud tattoos on her side and traced over the shapes. "Youre so weird" Jinx scoffed but the light smile on her lips betrayed her fake annoyance. "Literally everyone is scared of me and here you are talking about how cute I am? What the fuck's wrong with you" She shook her head with a small laugh, her long electric blue hair flowing down her back and making her even more etheral.

You could only shrug your shoulders in response. "Maybe Im just hopelessly in love with you" As your lips curled into a smile, your eyes looking up Jinxs beautiful body to meet her pink eyes. Your girlfriend instead stared down at you with a hint of played disgust. "Youre such a sap" She huffed in response, her own hand trailing over your bare chest.

[formulawolff]

iii. objects in the mirror - t.w. + m.v.

pairing -> reserve fem driver!reader x toto wolff x max verstappen

word count -> 2.8k

warnings -> morally gray individuals, slow burn, sexual content (intercourse), allusions to sexual content, cursing, lots of power imbalance, questionable boss x employee dynamics, light toxicity, slight controlling tendencies from toto, miscommunication trope (only for this chapter!!!)

a/n -> she’s baaaaaacckkkk! i hope y’all enjoy the messiness that is about to unfold! i missed you all so much! <3 p.s., give objects in the mirror by mac miller a listen while reading this chapter!

prev. | next.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

he stands at the barriers, fingers curling around the cool surface. his jaw clenches as the press begins to cluster around, their cameras poised, eager to capture every word. every movement.

the blinking red lights are beady and unforgiving as the reporters raise their phones and mics, nearly shoving them toward his face.

"max, what did you make of qualifying?"

"max! over here! how does it feel to be outperformed by a reserve driver?"

"max! max! is she a threat to your pursuit of a perfect start?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the dutch driver shakes his head, suppressing the chuckle rumbling in the base of his throat.

what kinds of questions were these? how was he supposed to answer of them? who hired these people to represent the press?

yet, he knew he had to answer their burning questions. it was a requirement set forth by the fia. a term and condition in his contract. a duty of the job.

"well," max coughs, shifting slightly as all eyes fall on him, "i-i didn't perform to the best of my abilities. the car is good, the strategy was good, and we had a great game plan. i was the one who didn't do my part. i could have done some things differently, especially on some of the turns.

but this is only the first race. we have so much ahead this season, it's difficult to really tell how it will all play out. we will just have to take it weekend by weekend. session by session. race by race. that's about all i can really say right now. did that answer your questions?"

"all but one," a journalist waves her hand, "you avoided the question regarding the reserve driver. how did it feel to be outperformed by someone who has not competed in a single formula one race? she was a second and a half faster than you on the track. is that sort of concerning to you or red bull? or do you believe that it was the car that won her pole?"

the dutch driver puckers his lips, tongue gliding along his teeth a pause settles over the crowd, consuming them with silence. his gaze scans over the reporters, taking in how they glance uneasily at one another, cautious not to speak any further.

he was well aware of why they were nervous.

well, rather who they were wary of.

mad max.

he cocks his head, lips curling into a smug smirk, "you all witness one subpar performance and think that--"

however, something moves in his peripheral, the words trailing off as he's pulled away.

not something, but someone.

her.

absolutely and uttered swarmed by other outlets, their journalists hounding her like some damn dogs. the lights from the cameras are almost blinding, his eyes squinting from the harsh light. on her face, sweat lingers, illuminating her skin with a soft, dewy glow. she's still in her suit but it's half unzipped, the material bunching perfectly around her hips, almost hugging them.

there's an itching sensation in his fingers and toes, almost like his body was urging him to move. almost as if he needed to be in close proximity to her.

to orbit around her like a planet, just so that he could be in her space.

he can't make out what they're asking, but it's clear that she's visibly uncomfortable. her eyes dart back and forth, unable to maintain steady eye contact with a single reporter. she's swaying slightly, a desperate attempt to self-soothe as all of their voices blend together.

fuck, did she execute a brilliant drive. the pace she held on the car was incredible, every turn and chicane flawless. somehow, she was able to push that w15 to its full potential.

she was like lighting. if you blinked, you would have missed her soaring down that track.

it was almost like she was destined for formula one. like she belonged in one of those twenty seats from the very beginning. if only he could have talked some sense into christian.

if only.

the image of her on top of the car, pumping her fists in the air would forever be engrained in his memory. the way strands of hair clung to her forehead as she pulled that balaclava off. the way her grin was brighter than the lights of the grandstands. the way stars shone in her eyes, the adrenaline pumping through her veins as the team swept her up into their arms.

god, he had never seen her so happy. so full of life. so ethereal in that moment, radiating nothing but pure, holy light.

a goddess walking the earth, brightening the world with her angelic presence.

not any world, but his world.

there was that feeling creeping in. that stinging sensation.

the one feeling that always lingered, no matter how desperately he pushed it away.

that one fucking feeling.

"max," a voice cuts in, "are you going to answer?"

"u-uhm," the dutch driver blinks, a hand instinctively cupping the base of his neck, "i have no comment, really. we will just have to see how tomorrow unfolds. as far as the rest of the season, we will just have to wait and see. that's all i have to say."

forming a tight-lipped smile, max gives a final nod, swiveling on his heel. the journalists call out his name, in vain attempts to flag him down. to capture one last statement. to get one more clip.

they wouldn't though.

not when his mind was clouded.

clouded by her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"i'm so proud of you."

the words are quiet, laced with a softness you couldn't quite put your finger on.

your chin tilts upward, a giggle bubbling up in your throat, "oh yeah?"

he nods fervently, fingers drifting to your face. they roam along your cheekbone, tracing down your jawline, "baby, i'm so proud of you. so fucking proud."

"i didn't really know what was happening until i heard them over the radio," heat billows into your cheeks as max's mouth curves into a quaint smile, a glimmer in his gaze as you continue, "i was just in the zone, you know?"

"mhmmm," he hums, carefully brushing a loose strand from your forehead, "i know exactly what you're talking about."

a hazy bliss hangs in the air, your bodies intertwined, shrouded by the warmth of the comforter. heated skin presses against yours, your head nuzzled against his collarbone. an arm hangs lazily around your waist, thumb massaging along your hip.

if only you could just stay here. cozied up with max verstappen, high off the thrill of racing and oxytocin. basking in his affection and admiration, kisses peppering your forehead and temple.

"are you ready to get your ass kicked tomorrow?"

max arches a brow, and you catch a flicker in his eye.

the flicker of fire.

"you sure about that one, love?"

"i think it'll be a good race," propping yourself up with your elbow, you lean in, the tip of your nose brushing against his, "you know what i think we should do?"

you inch closer, a rosy pink hue tinging his cheeks, "what's that?"

"i think that whoever loses tomorrow, has to give the winner head."

"oh?" the corners of max's mouth curve, forming a wide smile, "you know what i think? i think that's simply lovely."

shaking your head, you roll your eyes as max bursts into a fit of laughter, his chest vibrating against yours. you huff, rolling away from him. the laugh is hearty, deep from his diaphragm. it's a rare laugh, one reserved for those closest to him.

a sound only heard by the people he loved.

"come here," his breath fans against your ear as his forearm tightens around your waist, "don't hide from me."

the words are breathy, almost needy.

as if he couldn't bear a second longer without you in his arms.

you shift, puckering your lips as a shiver runs down your spine, "where did this max come from?"

"he's always been here," a hand glides along your neck, grasping it oh so slightly as his mouth ghosts over yours, "d-do you have any idea of what you do to me?"

your lashes flutter as your heart skips a beat, "i-i don't know if i--"

a shrill noise floods the space, earning a flinch from you as max exhales, turning over. he reaches for the nightstand, squinting from the brightness of his phone. your lower lip juts out, forming a pout as his focus on you completely crumbles.

as he types away, there's this gnawing in your gut, the temperature of the room dropping a few degrees. when it came to you, max provided nothing but his complete and utter attention. he never answered his phone unless it was a call. and usually, it wasn't anyone other than his mom, gianpiero, checo, or christian calling.

he always affirmed to you that texts, emails, and other notifications could wait.

so, what suddenly captivated his attention?

or rather, who?

peering over his shoulder, your eyes narrow.

he's on instagram, scrolling through a conversation thread in his direct messages. at first, it looks like a fan, which was not uncommon. max received all sorts of messages from fans, from all ages and genders. more than half of the time, they were women, but it didn't bother you.

if you were his fan, you would dm him too.

however, as you make out the username, your heart sinks.

it was none other than kelly piquet. daughter of nelson piquet. a name well-known in the world of motorsports.

a name that left an awful, putrid taste in your mouth.

you did a great job this weekend! i can't wait to watch you race tomorrow! you're gonna win, i just know it. 😘

your lower lip trembles, your chest tightening as you notice more and more messages. photos too. anything from seflies to photos of her in workout sets or bikinis. tons and tons of emojis, ranging from hearts to kissy faces.

tears well up, the initial disbelief dissolving into fiery rage.

"w-when did you start talking to kelly piquet?"

your voice is so low max can't pick out the words. hitting the lock screen button, he rolls back, facing you. two hands cup your cheeks, eyes locking with yours.

"baby, i'm not talking to her."

"obviously you are!" a sob escapes your throat, the tears trickling down, "why are you fucking entertaining that? you were responding to her message! i saw it!"

"do you want to see my phone?" max pleads, "i'll let you look at my phone. you can go through everything--"

"i don't want to see any more," you jaw clenches, "just get the fuck out. please."

"don't make me go," his voice falters, "please, just let me explain."

carefully, you begin to sit up. wiping away your tears, you raise your arm, pointing at the door, "j-just go. i don't want to hear another word from you. just get the fuck out of here."

"baby, let me just fucking tell you what's going on--"

squeezing your eyes shut, your shoulders shake as the cries erupt, spilling out, "i-i think i have a g-good idea of w-what's--"

"i love you. do you hear me? i fucking love you. i would rather lose everything. my fucking career. my awards and accolades. everything that i own. i would lose it all if it meant i could have you."

"you d-don't," you spit out, the despair withering away to fury, "if you loved me, you wouldn't be fucking and entertaining other women. get out of my fucking room, max. get the fuck out. i don't want to hear from you or speak to you ever again. get out of my fucking life."

in that moment, you sense his defeat.

max couldn't argue with you any longer. if that's what you wanted, then he would obey. as much as his mind screamed at him to stay, to just hold and comfort you, he knew you were stubborn.

he couldn't blame you, not one bit.

after all, things did look pretty bad. you caught him responding to a woman who was consistently messaging him. and not just any woman.

a woman he had a brief fling with, several years before he met you.

a woman that you knew about, simply because max couldn't help but share the details. not because he wanted you to know, but because he was comfortable with you.

you knew things about him that no one else did. you knew what his favorite toy was when he was only a six year-old boy. you knew what song he listened to before every race, how he liked his tomato soup, and the darkness surrounding his upbringing.

you knew max verstappen in ways no one else did.

which, is why he loved you. he loved that he could be vulnerable with you. you were his safe haven. the sun to his moon. the woman who placed the stars in the sky.

the one person he was completely and utterly himself with.

and now, you were sitting here, dried tears sticking to your heated cheeks, ordering him to go. forcing him out of your life.

he wouldn't blame you for acting this way.

he knew your temper. he was well aware that it would only be a couple of hours before you were calling him, desperate to hear his voice because it was the only way you could fall asleep. you would beg for him to sing that one lullaby, in his native tongue. the one he wanted to sing for you every night until you dozed off in his arms.

yet, if you wanted him gone, then that's what he would do.

after all, max was patient.

he would wait.

even if it took months, he would wait until you were ready to forgive him.

shoving an arm through his coat, he crossed the room, finding the door. glancing over his shoulder, he looked at you one last time.

you were curled up in the bed, wrapped underneath the comforter. your sobs were muffled, but he could hear them. it felt almost as if there was a dagger, tearing his chest open and driving into his heart.

but he had to leave. it was what you wanted.

it's what you needed, as much as it pained him to leave you.

as max verstappen slipped out from the front door of your motorhome, a figure lingered in the shadows, their curiosity piquing as max shouts and curses about, his voice carrying across the night.

toto wolff, team principal of mercedes folds his arms across his chest, clicking his tongue.

"oh sweet girl, what did you get yourself into?"

cautiously, the team principal flicks his head back and forth, ensuring there max was out of sight. after all, it was approximately 1:06 a.m. surely he wouldn't be noticed.

see, it wasn't like toto intended to witness what he just did. he just happened to be taking an evening stroll. and well, part of his stroll just happened to be in front of your motorhome. it was simply part of the route that he took every race weekend.

sucking in a breath, the team principal made his way toward your door.

he knew he shouldn't. he knew the risks involved. he knew how messy this could get.

but toto wolff wanted to build a champion.

and that's what he would do.

no matter what it took.

licking his lips, the team principal raises his hand, gently rapping his knuckles against the door. it only takes about a minute before the door opens. at first, it's merely a crack, your head barely poking out.

there's an uneasy feeling that seeps into his chest as he notices the crimson hue tinging your eyes, the lids puffy from tears. your hair is a little messier than usual, a loose t-shirt hanging from your frame.

when you recognize who it is, you straighten a little, clearing your throat.

"u-uh, hi toto. you know it's late right?"

"i know," he nods, "but i was taking a stroll to clear my head and noticed someone around your motorhome. is everything okay?"

"oh?" your brow furrows, and he picks up the way you shrink slightly, "i didn't know that. i've been asleep."

"oh really?" toto cocks his head, sensing your demeanor shift as he catches you right where he wants you, right in the middle of your lie, "are you telling the truth?"

your sniff, feeling your palms clam up as he studies you, picking you apart, "i-i don't know what you're talking about."

the team principal takes a step forward, a hand darting out. it caresses your cheek, the pad of his thumb catching a tear as it falls.

"tell me, hase. are you having boy troubles?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @sweetjellyfishland @ts1m1kas @bxuzi @racecardilfs @bblouifford @justacornerofmybrain @irishmanwhore @sleutherclaw @marknolee @jeannealicette @allyisalright-blog @omgsuperstarg @okdokeygryssel63 @noooway555

[gilbertscurls]

tea parties and tiny chefs — matt sturniolo

summary: can you imagine him sitting down and letting your child serve him play pretend food from their mini kitchen?

The late afternoon sun poured through the living room windows, painting the space in warm golden hues. The soft hum of a distant cartoon played on the TV, but it was barely noticeable over the excited clinking of plastic plates and the babble of a very determined little chef.

Matt sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, watching with an amused smile as your daughter shuffled back and forth from her miniature play kitchen. She wore an oversized chef’s hat—one you were certain was originally white but had been aggressively “decorated” with rainbow markers—and a pink apron tied crookedly around her tiny frame.

“Okay, Mr. Daddy!” she announced, clutching a plastic teacup in one hand and a neon green plate in the other. “Your tea is ready, but it’s really hot, so you gotta blow on it!”

Matt’s lips twitched as he accepted the cup, holding it delicately between two fingers. He made an exaggerated show of blowing over the nonexistent steam, eyebrows raised like this was the most important task he’d ever been assigned.

“Phew, close one,” he said, his voice light with humor. “I almost burned my tongue there. This tea smells amazing, though. Did you steep it for…uh…five hours?”

Your daughter gasped, horrified. “No, silly! You don’t steep tea for five hours. Just three minutes. Everybody knows that.”

From your spot in the doorway, you stifled a laugh behind your hand. Matt caught your eye briefly, his smile softening, before he turned his attention back to his tiny host.

“Right, right. Three minutes. My bad, Chef.”

She nodded in satisfaction before placing the green plate in front of him. On it sat a mismatched assortment of plastic food—a yellow banana, a blue steak, and what looked like a pink cookie.

“This is a very special dinner,” she said with gravity. “You have to eat it all, even the cookie, because it has magic sprinkles.”

“Magic sprinkles? No way.”

“YES way.”

Matt gasped, clutching the plate like it held a priceless treasure. “I’m honored. I can’t believe you’d trust me with such an important cookie.”

Your daughter’s face lit up, her chubby cheeks glowing with pride, and for a moment, your heart swelled at the sight. Matt had always been so good with her—gentle, patient, and endlessly entertaining. It wasn’t just about humoring her; he enjoyed these moments. You could tell by the way he leaned into her imagination, matching her energy beat for beat.

You stepped forward then, joining them on the floor. “Chef, is there any food for me, or am I not on the reservation list?”

Your daughter’s head snapped up, her expression serious. “Oh no, Mommy. You don’t have a reservation. But I can squeeze you in…if you promise to tip well.”

Matt barked out a laugh, clutching the plastic teacup to his chest. “She’s already running a five-star restaurant. Watch out, world.”

The three of you spent the next hour huddled around the tiny kitchen setup, plates and cups being shuffled back and forth, fake vegetables and neon desserts being “devoured” with dramatic flair. Matt never once looked at his phone or seemed distracted. Every ounce of his attention was devoted to your daughter’s world of make-believe.

At one point, as your daughter busied herself “washing” dishes in the little plastic sink, Matt caught your eye again. His smile was softer now, quieter, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

Matt shrugged slightly, but his ears turned pink. “She makes it easy. And…it’s kind of nice to slow down like this. Just…be here.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your heart full.

Eventually, the little chef announced that the restaurant was closed for the night. With a dramatic yawn, she declared she was far too tired to cook one more thing. Matt scooped her up in one arm and carried her to the couch, where she nestled into his chest without hesitation.

You sat beside them, your head resting on Matt’s shoulder as your daughter’s sleepy breaths evened out.

In the golden light of the fading sun, with the soft weight of your child in Matt’s arms and his steady presence beside you, the world felt still. Peaceful.

And as Matt pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his eyes meeting yours over her sleeping form, he realized that moments like this—the quiet, simple ones—were the ones he’d treasure most.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

[alltheeya]

It's you || l.hs

genre: friends to lovers, fluff!!!

word count: 6k

a/n: not really the inspo for the fic, but i watched the video of Henry Lau, confessing "It's You" was inspired by Bae Suzy. He also sang it to her, occasionally switching the lyrics to "It's Suzy". i don't ship, but i just got so much butterflies from that vid so i used the song as the title and inserted it somewhere here hehe hdjkvhkjsdv anyways enjoy my first ever fic!

warnings: mentions of food/picnic, probs weird flow of events bcs of the writing(?) lol sorry, reader being too shy and nervous?, heeseung being flirty and sweet?, they kiss at the end <3

It was a sunny afternoon when Heeseung and I met for our date. The sky was clear, the air just warm enough to make the idea of a picnic in the park feel perfect. I had never been one for super romantic, cliché dates, but something about this felt... right. 

When I got to the park, I saw him standing by the entrance, looking as effortlessly charming as always. He was holding a basket, a blanket tucked under his arm, and the unmistakable shape of his guitar slung over his shoulder. He had that soft, easy smile on his face, the one I’d come to realize was reserved just for me.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered as I approached him. I had picked out a cute little sundress for the occasion, and although it was just something simple, it felt perfect for the day, for the moment. The dress fluttered lightly with every step, and as I got closer, I saw Heeseung’s eyes light up as he took in my appearance.

"You look... amazing," he said, his voice filled with sincerity, and for a split second, I felt like all the attention in the world was on me. I blushed, suddenly self-conscious.

"Thanks," I said shyly, my fingers playing nervously with the straps of my dress. "You don’t look too bad yourself."

He chuckled, that little teasing smile of his dancing on his lips. "I’m glad you think so."

He stepped forward to greet me, his hands full with the items he had carried. "Here," he said, lifting the picnic basket and blanket in his hands. "I was going to wait until you got here, but now that you’re here, I—"

My eyes drifted to the guitar slung over his shoulder, curiosity piquing. "What’s the guitar for?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

Heeseung hesitated, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. "Oh, uh…" He looked away for a moment, scratching the back of his neck before meeting my gaze again. "I thought I’d… maybe sing for you later during the picnic."

I blinked, a little taken aback but mostly flustered. "You will sing for me?" I echoed, my heart skipping a beat.

"Yeah," he admitted shyly, his voice softer now. "I asked around. They said you… um…would probably melt if someone serenades you as a way of… courting you."

My cheeks instantly flushed, the memory of my past comments to my friends coming back to haunt me. "You– What?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

Heeseung gave a small, sheepish shrug. "I wanted to make the date special for you."

I couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across my face. My gaze shifted to the basket he was holding. "Well, since you’re carrying the guitar, let me help with the basket," I offered, reaching for it.

But Heeseung shook his head, stepping back slightly. "No," he said softly, his gaze shifting to my hands. He reached out, holding them for a moment before his eyes met mine again. "I’ve got this. But… would you mind holding my hand instead?"

I blinked at him, taken aback for a split second. His expression was so sincere, like he truly wanted the simple connection. It was such a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt so personal, so genuine.

I smiled shyly, my heart beating a little faster. "Okay," I said softly, reaching out to take his hand.

His hand was warm and comforting, and as we walked into the park together, the guitar gently bouncing against his back, I couldn’t help but think that this moment, this day, was already perfect.

As we walked together toward our spot, Heeseung looked down at me with a fond smile, and I couldn't help but blush.

"We're almost there," he said, his fingers gently squeezing mine. "I was thinking we could find a nice spot near the lake. It's peaceful there."

I nodded, my heart swelling at how thoughtful he was. "Sounds perfect."

And with that, we strolled side by side, taking our time to get to the lake, letting the day unfold at its own pace, just the two of us, together.

Heeseung had really gone all out with the picnic. As we reached our spot by the lake, he laid out the blanket with care, smoothing out any creases, and then began setting everything down. I was a little surprised by how much he had brought—everything was so thoughtfully chosen.

I couldn’t help but notice Heeseung’s playful smile as he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Close your eyes for a second,” he said, his voice light, though there was a hint of something more in it.

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued but trusting him completely. “What are you up to?” I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“You’ll see,” Heeseung responded, his voice soft, and I heard the faintest sound of something being moved.

Then, before I could even wonder what it was, I felt his fingers gently brush against my hair, and I blinked in surprise as he clipped something in place. I could tell it was delicate by the way he handled it, the motion gentle but deliberate.

“Okay, open,” he said, his tone warm and expectant.

I blinked my eyes open, my fingers instinctively reaching up to touch the clip in my hair. “What did you…?”

“It’s a flower,” Heeseung grinned, his gaze softening as he admired the clip. “Pretty, just like you.”

I couldn’t stop the heat rising to my cheeks, my heart pounding a little faster. I quickly looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Y-You’re so cheesy,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And you love it,” Heeseung teased, his laugh so light and full of affection that it made my heart flutter. He handed me a mirror to see the clip for myself, and I shyly adjusted it in my hair, still flushed.

“Thanks, Heeseung,” I mumbled, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Heeseung leaned in just enough for his grin to widen, his eyes sparkling with affection. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing enough to make me blush even more.

I couldn’t help but duck my head, my cheeks still burning as I tried to focus on the picnic spread in front of us. “Let’s just eat,” I muttered, though my tone was light, laced with warmth, as I hoped to distract myself from the way my heart was racing.

Heeseung let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. “Alright, alright,” he said, opening the basket. “But just so you know, that clip is my new favorite thing on you.”

I shot him a glance, my heart fluttering a little at his words. “You’re just saying that to make me embarrassed,” I said, trying to play it cool even though the heat was still creeping up my neck.

There were sandwiches, each carefully wrapped in paper, looking perfectly made. One of them had chicken, lettuce, and mayo, while the other was a veggie one with avocado and some hummus spread. Heeseung also brought some fresh fruit—juicy slices of watermelon, strawberries, and grapes that sparkled in the sunlight. There was even a small jar of homemade lemonade that he had made himself, the lemony scent making my mouth water immediately.

"Wow, you really went all out," I said, laughing a little, feeling touched by the effort he’d put into this. I had half-expected a simple sandwich, but this was more like a small feast.

Heeseung smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "Well, I wanted it to be special," he said. "I thought you’d like it."

I nodded, my heart warming. He was always so considerate, and it made me appreciate him even more.

As we ate, I couldn’t help but glance up at Heeseung, only to notice a small crumb clinging to the corner of his mouth. My hand moved before I even thought about it, brushing it away gently. “You’ve got crumbs,” I murmured, focused on the task like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t until I dropped my hand and realized how close we were that it hit me—what I had just done. My breath caught for a second, and my eyes widened slightly. My face instantly heated up, and I leaned back quickly, clearing my throat to mask my embarrassment.

Heeseung didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, he grinned like he’d just won a game, his eyes sparkling with a kind of mischief that made my stomach flip. I barely had a second to recover before he grabbed another snack and dramatically ate it, smearing crumbs on purpose.

Then he leaned in, tilting his head toward me with the most exaggerated pout I’d ever seen. “I think I’ve got more crumbs,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful innocence. “Think you could help me out again?”

I blinked, completely caught off guard. My brain short-circuited for a moment, trying to decide between laughing or rolling my eyes. Instead, I spluttered, “Heeseung!” and instinctively pushed his face away, though I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.

He laughed outright, the sound warm and full, like he was having the time of his life seeing me all flustered. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence, though his grin gave him away. “You did such a good job the first time. Why stop now?”

I groaned, trying to sound annoyed, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me as they twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, reaching for a napkin instead. If he thought I was using my hand again, he had another thing coming.

When I dabbed at his face with the napkin, he leaned in closer, making no effort to hide how much he was enjoying this. “I think you secretly like taking care of me,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze soft and sincere. He winked, and I felt my heart do a ridiculous little flip.

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head, trying to keep my cool even as my cheeks warmed, but the fond smile on my face probably gave away how much I didn’t mind at all.

After we ate, we spent some time just chatting about random things—how our days had gone, how the weather was perfect for a picnic, and what we both liked to do on days like this. We didn’t have to try hard to find things to talk about; it just flowed naturally.

Then, after some time, we both leaned back, lying down on the blanket, facing the sky. The clouds drifted lazily by, the world around us quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves . It was peaceful, just the two of us in our own little bubble.

Heeseung, always the thoughtful one, noticed the bottom of my dress going up a bit with me lying down, so he took off his jacket and gently draped it over my legs. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted it, and I felt a small thrill shoot through me. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt so intimate in that moment.

"Is that better?" he asked, his voice soft, and I looked up at him, smiling.

"Yeah, much better. Thank you," I said, my voice quieter than usual, feeling the warmth from his jacket spread over me.

We both laid there in silence for a few moments, felt like time had slowed down, and everything in the world was perfect in this moment.

After a while, Heeseung turned his head toward me, his eyes shining with a quiet curiosity. "What do you think of the clouds? I always like to imagine shapes when I look at them."

I turned my head to meet his gaze, finding myself smiling. "I see a rabbit in that one," I said, pointing to a cloud that was stretched out like a fluffy bunny. "What about you?"

Heeseung squinted at the sky, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I think that one looks like a dragon," he said, laughing a little.

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to picture it. "I don’t see it."

"It’s there, I swear!" Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Maybe you just need to look harder."

I giggled, shaking my head. "Maybe you’re just making it up."

For a while, we kept looking at the clouds, pointing out shapes to each other and laughing at how different our imaginations were. It felt so easy, so comfortable, like we had been doing this forever.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to other things—like dreams, goals, and silly things we'd done in the past—but the way we were laying there, side by side, felt like the kind of connection I hadn’t realized I was longing for. It wasn’t rushed, there were no expectations. It was just us, in this peaceful moment, sharing the quiet joy of being together.

As we were lounging on the blanket, enjoying the serene afternoon, Heeseung suddenly sat up and reached for the guitar he had set beside him. I sat up too, curious, as he started to tune it, the sound of the strings bringing a sense of calm to the already peaceful atmosphere.

Heeseung adjusted the guitar on his lap, his fingers brushing over the strings as he looked up at me with a shy smile. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a little nervous but sweet.

I nodded, clasping my hands together in my lap to keep from fidgeting. "I’ve been ready since I saw the guitar," I teased, trying to calm my own nerves.

He grinned, ducking his head a little, and started strumming the familiar opening chords of Ed Sheeran's Thinking Out Loud. As he sang, his voice soft but steady, I felt my cheeks warm up. His voice was beautiful, effortlessly smooth, and filled with emotion.

When he finished the song, I clapped enthusiastically, cheering, “That was so good!” My heart swelled when I saw the shy smile that tugged at his lips as he glanced down at the guitar, clearly pleased.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, already transitioning into the next song.

The upbeat rhythm of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You filled the air, and Heeseung seemed to grow a little more confident as he played. He swayed slightly to the music, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine as he sang the lyrics. I couldn’t help but laugh and clap along, my excitement growing with each note.

When the second song ended, I cheered again, and this time, he chuckled softly. "You’re making me nervous with all the clapping," he teased, though his smile said otherwise.

“Sorry,” I said, not sorry at all, grinning at him. “You’re just doing so well!”

He nodded, his playful smile softening into something gentler. “Alright. Last one.”

As soon as he began the opening notes of It’s You by Henry Lau, I felt my breath hitch. The melody was soft and intimate, and his voice took on an almost tender quality. But what really got me was the way he held my gaze as he sang.

I felt my face heat up more and more with each lyric, my heartbeat quickening as the song reached its final line. “You...It’s you…,” he sang softly, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity in his gaze made me feel like I was the only person in the world in that moment.

I forgot to clap.

Heeseung broke the spell with a shy laugh, his voice tentative as he asked, “How did I do?”

I blinked, realizing I had been holding my breath. My voice came out quieter than I intended, but it was filled with sincerity. “I loved every single bit of it. Thanks, Heeseung.”

His ears turned a little pink at my words, and he scratched the back of his neck, clearly pleased but unsure how to respond.

We both sat there, the guitar resting across his lap, the moment stretching between us. I wasn’t sure if my cheeks would ever stop burning, but I also didn’t care. It was perfect—he was perfect. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like this kind of sweetness was exactly where I belonged.

 “Glad you do…” Heeseung said with that boyish grin of his, the kind that made my heart flutter. He puts away his guitar and moved to sit beside me, the soft strum of his guitar still echoing in my mind.

Without thinking, I leaned my head onto his shoulder, the movement instinctual, comfortable. I couldn’t help it; it felt like the most natural thing in the world. My arm instinctively linked with his, and I glanced up at him, a little nervous. "Is this okay?" I asked, my voice soft.

Heeseung turned his head toward me, a small smile forming as he nodded. "Yeah, it’s more than okay." Then, without hesitation, he rested his head on top of mine, the warmth of his touch sending a rush of contentment through me.

We sat there for a moment, simply enjoying the quiet and the closeness, before Heeseung broke the stillness with a playful tone. “So, my guitar skills worked, huh? Seems like I’ve got the magic touch,” he teased, his voice full of mischief.

I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes at him, trying to keep the playful facade, but my smile betrayed me. "You think so, huh?" I asked, trying to sound serious, but failing miserably.

He chuckled softly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I was just joking.” He gently guided my head back onto his shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m just happy you liked it,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost like he was savoring the moment.

A comfortable silence enveloped the two of us again, the kind of peaceful stillness where words weren’t needed. The only sound was the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of life around us, but in that moment, it felt like everything had slowed down.

Then, Heeseung lifted my hand, the one that had been linked to his arm, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on the back of it. His lips were warm against my skin, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip at the tender gesture. He lowered my hand back down, both of his hands gently enclosed around it, as if holding onto something precious.

I turned my head up to him, my heart fluttering from the intimacy of the moment. "What was that for?" I asked, my voice a little breathless, unsure of how to process the sweetness of what had just happened.

Heeseung looked down at me with that soft, almost shy smile, as if the kiss had been a simple, natural thing. "Just because… I wanted to," he said quietly, his voice sincere but laced with a hint of playfulness.

I shook my head slightly, trying to hold back my grin as I playfully rolled my eyes. “You’re weird,” I teased, my voice light and affectionate.

I rested my head back down on his shoulder, this time a little more comfortably than before. Heeseung chuckled softly at my comment, but there was a tenderness in his laughter. 

We spent the rest of the time talking about random things, easy conversation flowing between us again. I could feel the peaceful warmth between us, a sense of belonging and comfort I never wanted to end. Every now and then, Heeseung would squeeze my hand or I’d catch him looking down at me with that soft smile, and it made my heart skip a beat.

I felt my heart beat a little faster as I tightened my hold on his arm, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You know, you looked really handsome a while ago, playing the guitar and singing,” I said, my voice quiet, trying to sound casual, though I could feel the heat creeping up to my cheeks.

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat. He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me. "Just handsome?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Not handsome, attractive, and charming?"

I rolled my eyes, though I could feel a smile tugging at my lips despite my embarrassment. “Okay, okay,” I mumbled, trying to look away but not being able to hide the way my face was probably flushed. "You’re all of that, too. Happy?"

Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying teasing me. “I’ll take it," he said, his voice light but with a warm edge. “But just so you know, you’re not too bad yourself. You’re pretty cute when you’re all flustered like this."

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. I lifted my head to look at him, a little flustered but also amused by the way he could turn the tables so easily. “You’re really something, you know that?,” I muttered, though the smile on my face .

Heeseung grinned, his eyes softening as he leaned a little closer. “But you like it, don’t you?”

I just laughed softly, unable to deny how much I enjoyed moments like this with him. “You’re lucky I do,” I replied, resting my head back against his shoulder, the warmth between us feeling just right.

I felt a small flutter in my chest as his thumb gently rubbed against my hand, his touch so tender, making my heart skip a beat. I blinked at him, momentarily distracted by how close he was, but his question made my thoughts suddenly scatter.

“Y/n?”

I swallowed, feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze. “Hm?” I hummed softly, trying to keep my composure, though my heart was racing just a little.

Heeseung’s voice dropped a little softer as he asked again, “Why did you agree to go out with me? And all of this?” His eyes lowered to my hand for a moment, his thumb continuing its slow, steady caress. He met my gaze again, his expression vulnerable yet warm. “I thought you weren’t the type to say yes to dates, or... that’s what I’ve heard.”

I felt my grip on his arm tighten involuntarily, his words making me feel a little exposed, but there was a gentle warmth in his voice that made it impossible for me to be upset. He was just curious, I knew that.

I tilted my head slightly, blinking up at him, trying to process the question. “You’ve heard that, huh?” I asked, my voice quieter than usual, the weight of his gaze making me feel like I had to think carefully about how to answer.

Heeseung nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, that soft, hopeful look still lingering. “Yeah. You just seem... selective. Like you wouldn’t say yes unless it really meant something.”

I hesitated, my heart picking up speed as I tried to find the right words. His thumb was still rubbing gentle circles on the back of my hand, soothing and distracting me at the same time.

I smiled, warmth creeping up my cheeks. “Well, you’re not wrong. I don’t usually go out of my way to... entertain stuff like this.”

Heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his lips parting slightly like he was waiting for me to finish.

“Well...” I began slowly, feeling heat creep into my cheeks, “I don’t really know.”  

Heeseung chuckled softly. “You don’t know?”  

I sighed, thinking about my answer carefully. “It’s just that you’re different. You’re kind, thoughtful, and... I don’t know, you make it easy to say yes. It’s like I feel... safe around you.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted into a soft smile, and he let out a breath of relief. 

“And You were just... Heeseung. And I liked that.”  

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “So, you like me.”  

I couldn’t stop myself from smacking his arm lightly, half in play and half in embarrassment. His eyes widened slightly as he let out a light 'ah' in mock surprise. His playful grin only grew, clearly enjoying how flustered I was.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the growing grin. “You’re so annoying.”  

“And you’re not denying it,” Heeseung said, his grin widening as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying the rare moment of making me flustered.

I groaned in frustration, burying my face in his shoulder, hoping to hide just how embarrassed I was. “This was a mistake.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and comforting, and reached over to gently pull my head up to face him. “No take-backs. You already admitted it.”

I pouted, my cheeks burning even hotter now, but I couldn’t help the little smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Fine. Maybe I do like you a little. Happy now?”

Heeseung’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Yeah," he whispered. "Really happy."

I felt a flutter in my chest at the sincerity in his voice. There was no mistaking it. He really meant it.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, his gaze holding mine, “I’m really glad you gave me a chance.”

His words made my heart beat a little faster. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks again, but this time, it was different—comforting.

I tilted my head, trying to keep the teasing tone light, though I couldn’t entirely suppress the soft smile on my lips. “How about you, Heeseung? Out of all the ‘more gorgeous and more pretty girls', why did you choose me to go out on a date with?”

Heeseung let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. 

"Why you?" Heeseung echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Out of all the ‘more gorgeous and more pretty girls,' huh?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, the playful teasing still lingering in my voice. “Yeah. I mean, you have options, Heeseung. Tons of them.”

Heeseung’s smile only grew, but there was a softness in his eyes, and something about the way he looked at me made my heart flutter. “You know what’s funny?” he began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I didn’t even think about it like that. It wasn’t about ‘options’ or comparing you to anyone else.”

My laughter quieted as Heeseung moved to fully face me and gently took my hands  again, holding it between both of his, his touch warm and grounding. “You stood out to me in a way no one else has. It wasn’t just about looks, though you’re gorgeous, and don’t even try to deny that.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, grinning as if he knew exactly what I was about to say. “What drew me to you was how genuine you are. You don’t try to be someone you’re not, and you don’t even realize how refreshing that is. I noticed it the first time we crossed paths. Even when you were just saying hi, you felt... real.”

I blinked, my cheeks warming at his words. I wasn’t sure how to respond—his sincerity had caught me off guard. But I didn’t want to break eye contact. It felt too important, too meaningful.

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and then his next words came out softer, more vulnerable, as if they were something he needed to say, not just for me, but for him too. “So yeah, out of all the gorgeous girls out there... it was never a question. It’s you, Y/n. Just you.”

The weight of his words settled between us, filling the space with a sweetness I could hardly process. I was at a loss for words, my heart pounding in my chest as I looked up at him. His sincerity, the way he said my name, it felt... real. It felt like everything had fallen into place without any effort. I was the one who had to ask why him, but in that moment, I realized it had never been about anything other than the way he saw me—just me.

I smiled softly, my grip on his hand tightening as I whispered, “Just me, huh?”

Heeseung’s smile widened, his eyes brightening as he leaned in just enough for a brief moment, his presence suddenly filling the space between us. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re with me.”

The words sent a warmth rushing through me, my heart pounding harder with every beat. Heeseung’s hand instinctively reached for mine, his touch grounding me in a way that felt both familiar and brand new.

"You’re the person I can be myself with, Y/n," he continued, his voice soft, yet full of intention. "And I want to keep doing this—being with you, spending time like this, just...us."

My heart raced as his words sank in, and without even thinking, my fingers curled around his. I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips, my eyes softening as I looked up at him. “Heeseung...”

Heeseung’s smile softened even more, the nervousness that had been there earlier now replaced with pure sincerity. His voice was gentle but unwavering as he spoke again, almost as if he had rehearsed it, but I could hear the emotion behind it.

"I like you. More than just friends, more than anything casual," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he looked into my eyes. "I know it’s only been a couple of dates, but... would you say yes... to being my girlfriend?"

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, my mind going blank at the sincerity in his voice. His eyes were locked on mine, and everything else seemed to fade away. The world outside, the chatter, the noise—none of it mattered in that moment. It was just me and Heeseung, the only two people in that space.

I blinked, trying to process his words. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I could feel my cheeks warming. I never imagined that I’d find myself here, with him, feeling so incredibly special.

I couldn’t help but smile, my voice coming out softly, almost in disbelief at the way my heart was beating. “Yes... I’ll be your girlfriend, Heeseung.”

His smile was so wide it reached his eyes, and I felt an overwhelming rush of happiness fill me at his answer. He let out a small, relieved laugh, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand as he held it tightly. “You’re really saying yes?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief but overflowing with hope.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the words felt like they were stuck in my throat. “I’m starting to like you a lot too, Heeseung,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t help but smile shyly. "Our dates have been fun, our chats have been fun and you..." I trailed off, the words suddenly feeling too heavy to say.

Heeseung watched me with such a gentle, understanding expression, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I appreciated him, but the words felt like they were locked away, too vulnerable to voice.

He smiled, leaning in slightly, his eyes twinkling. “And me...?” he prompted softly, his voice filled with a teasing warmth that made me feel both embarrassed and adored at the same time.

I turned my gaze away for a moment, trying to hide the growing smile on my face as my cheeks flushed deeper. I swallowed, trying to steady my nerves as I finally answered, my voice softer than usual.

"You..." I paused, gathering my thoughts as I looked back at him, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips. "You're... a lot more than just fun, Heeseung."

Heeseung’s grin softened, his eyes warm with affection as he watched me, clearly appreciating the honesty in my words. I could feel my heart race, but in the best way possible, like every word that came out was something I couldn’t hold back.

"Talking to you feels so easy, even if you tease and flirt all the time," I added, letting out a soft laugh.

Heeseung chuckled too, his usual playful smile dancing on his lips, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that made my heart flutter.

"I really like it whenever you're around..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper, and for a moment, I turned away again, not sure I could continue without getting completely flustered.

But then I spoke again, a little softer this time, as if my words had a life of their own. "I never regret going on dates with you because... I always feel l appreciated everytime."

I felt my breath hitched in my throat as his hand gently cupped my face, turning me to face him again. His thumb brushed lightly over my cheek, sending a wave of warmth through me. The intensity in his gaze made my heart race, and I could barely look away from him as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Heeseung’s voice was barely a whisper, his words carrying a sweetness that made my chest tighten. “I’m really glad you feel that way, Y/n,” he said softly, his thumb brushing along my cheek again, making me shiver slightly at the warmth of his touch. 

His eyes wandered to my lips for a brief moment before meeting my gaze again, and I could feel the electricity in the air, the unspoken question hanging between us.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, but there was something in his eyes—a silent plea for permission. I gave him a nod

Heeseung’s movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were giving me the chance to change my mind at any moment. His eyes never left mine, the anticipation in his gaze undeniable. I felt my heart hammer in my chest, the world around us fading as the only thing I could focus on was him. The space between us was closing, each inch making my breath catch in my throat.

My eyes kept looking at his eyes then at his lips, back and forth. I could feel the heat of his presence, the warmth radiating off him as his lips brushed against mine, so tender, so soft. It was a slow, gentle kiss—one that felt like it was meant to last forever. 

The touch of his lips sent a rush of warmth through me, a feeling I’d never experienced before, and I melted into it, my hands instinctively moving to rest on his chest. Heeseung, sensing my response, wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer as his other hand gently cupped the back of my neck. His touch was steady and comforting, drawing me even nearer to him, our bodies pressed together as he deepened the kiss just slightly.

I could feel his heart racing too, and it only made mine beat faster. The world seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of us caught in this perfect, tender moment. Every nerve in my body felt alive, and I couldn't help but relax into his embrace, letting him guide me through the warmth of the kiss.

Heeseung pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing a little heavier, his hand still cradling my neck as he kept me close. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“You’re incredible, Y/n,” he murmured, his thumb gently stroking the skin on my neck.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, feeling all kinds of emotions rush through me. My heart was still racing, but this time, it was with happiness.

//i need heeseung to cover "It's you" now > <//

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Requests are up, right?

If so, hiii! Could I please request a Viktor x wealthy nobleman reader angst set in s1 and during the timeskip? Maybe to do with reader’s parents are forcing him into an arranged marriage so he can’t be with Viktor but they’re still trying to make it work??? Don’t feel obligated to write this it’s up to you n e wayz have a good day thankss ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

viktor x male! wealthy nobleman! reader

angst, (implied) smut, some dialogue. an experimental little thing, really.

word count: 1,7k

author’s note: this request. it’s so scrumptious. so beautiful. so delightful. thank you for asking me to write this, i don’t think i’ve met your expectation but i certainty tried to throw in some extra angst. enjoy, my darling anon!

—

He wakes up in a sweat-slick frenzy, salt dribbling down his neck when he reaches to feel it, scrapping matted hair off pale skin. 

The sheets beneath him are crumpled into intractable waves. The detritus of his restless sleep and whatever erotic mess he’d made out of you a few hours ago. But when his arm crawls to your side of the bed, smoothing over the rippled splendour, his fist clenches around nothing. 

Heavy lids flutter with effort when his ochre eyes roam beneath the chestnut strands, fruitlessly roaming around the pompous room. All claret patches of luxurious furniture curdling into countless voids in the dim light. There’s something so inherently you and not-you-in-the-slightest all the same clashing inside this chamber. Gaudy, and tasteless, and redundantly sandalwood. Duck-feather pillows and thick mattresses. Exuberant safety. 

Viktor rests his eyes, propping his head up on a trembling hand. He could never get used to this. He could never get used to you. Your reputee. Your respectable decorum. The things he’s supposed to enjoy—or, rather, finally try getting used to.

And yet, they’re still so foreign and confusing. He swears there’s a myriad snarky insults written all over this gigantic house—on every ridiculous vintage lamp and on the mortifying softness of your carpets—hell, even the curtains sway at him sibilantly, somehow. 

But the mirrors are certainly the culprit. He always avoids those evil, gilded things at all cost. Not because he despises the reflection. It’s mostly the way he clashes with the grandeur that makes him avert his eyes. Away from the jaunty reminder that he doesn’t belong here. 

He emerges from the bed, blood rushing out of his head and thumping harder when he slips one leg off the edge, gaining precarious hold of his cane through drowsy confusion. Hides the slopes of pointy shoulders beneath his flimsy shirt but leaves it unbuttoned. Counts puce hickeys strewn across his chest and cockily runs his heavy tongue over his molars when the number exceeds ten. 

He doesn’t bother with the belt, either. He trudges out of the room with pants hanging low on hips, eerie gallus curdling into his walk when he passes Agnes, your maid, trading shrewd gazes with her judging eyes. She knows. And he knows she knows. You’re not exactly secretive with whatever blissed debaucheries happen in one of those spacious bedrooms the second your venerable parents leave the City of Progress.

Too bad he doesn’t care enough to keep you out of trouble. It’s more of an eye-for-an-eye dilemma. You’re still so skittish to address him as your partner during those numerous fancy galas. Janna, he can’t even make it to the guest list. It’s like you completely lack the balls (and the appendage is definitely there—Viktor did check, after all). But it’s okay. Viktor can be the ballsy one. He can rub it in their faces while you falter. And tonight the maid’s face falls victim to his stunt. 

He asks if she’d seen you, sickeningly glibly. Finds the audacity to address you by your first name, his head cheekily tilted to the side. She inhales through her nose, canines nervously digging into her cheek.

“He’s in the drawing room,” she mumbles, looking away. “Playing the piano.” 

Viktor hums. Of course you are. He thanks her with a snide nod and takes his leave. Thinks of just how oblivious rich people are to their antics: it’s ridiculous that the sounds of a literal keyboard instrument fail to reach every room in this enormous mansion. It makes him really ponder the size. So much space for privilege, and yet none for love. Boastful quarters built on ingenuity. He bites his tongue. 

The door makes a heavy screech when he comes in, panting hard. Finds you at the edge of your padded seat, all tense shoulders and rigid breaths, cheeks blooming a frustrated, sweaty pink as your fingers torture the keyboard, tapping out a  bluesy, messy tune. He leans on the doorframe, forehead landing against the lacquered mahogany with a light thump. Notices the expensive ruffled shirt he’d torn at earlier, lingering on the patch of skin where it swings off your clavicle. Smiles, when your melody gains a sharper edge, pitiful chords clashing into something resembling a dismissed plea—either to gods or to conniving ancestry, but that’s open to interpretation. Could be both, really.

It’s not often that he gets to admire his boy like this—tumultuous and rigid, forehead contorted with veins in your angry awe. And Viktor doesn’t want to startle you. He sneaks behind your back and hovers above your shoulders, his breath a sly tickle over your fevered temple. But his presence grounds you. Your limbs tumble, going limp as they slide off the trembling black-whites. The piano strings still vibrate when you turn to kiss him, wet lips meeting chapped. 

He glides under your tongue and hums something indistinct, but you swallow his words faster. Franticly, you cling to him, desperate fingers clasping around bony thighs, and down he goes, pulled into your lap, bubbly giggle rasping against your mouth when he straddles you. Tastes of boldness, sweat and something delirious. Runs his hands up and down your back while his own arches into the keyboard and hits one cacophonic chord. It has you leaping out of your seat, hairs on ends like a skittish cat. Viktor looks at you, mouth unraveling into a boyish smile.

“Am I interrupting?” He finds his voice, still groggy from the aftermath of his slumber. 

You offer him an apologetic wink of both tired eyes. “You startled me.”

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry. You should have kept going. I quite liked that improvisation.” You both laugh. 

He rakes his hand up your neck, fingers circling the bulge of your voice, drawing a gulp. Your face looks strained, brows knitted together in something bizarrely tic-like—and it doesn’t go away even when his lips line up with that sensitive slope, licking, kissing, biting their way down to clavicles. 

“What’s troubling you?” He whispers, leaning back. Stares at the glistening stripe of his saliva, swallowing hard, matching you when you look away, gnawing at your bottom lip. Both mouths taste iron, chewing the tension. 

“Nothing?” You try to lie, but your delivery is just a tad too quizzical. Like you’re asking him to narrow it down for you, to find the answer on your behalf. Too bad he would never do you such favors. 

He fists his hand into your hair, tugging hard. Makes you look back into his mighty eyes—oh that lovely, oxidised copper—and orders you to speak from the altitude of his posture. You shudder, seeking mercy. He doesn’t have any to give. Not tonight.

“There’s clearly something,” Viktor insists, letting go of your hair. Your scalp tingles with a delicious scorch. “I don’t appreciate the covertness. Especially when you’re hardly able to keep it up. You never play quite as… vehemently unless you’re upset.” 

“It’s Agnes,” you crack, looking at the doorway. The maid is not there, but the weight of her gaze haunts you everytime you sneak Viktor inside, no matter if she’s not there to witness you cling to him. “She, er— My parents are threatening to fire her. She told me she can no longer keep our… secret. ” 

“So be it.” Viktor shrugs. “Let her talk. She needs her income. It’s not like they’re not aware of my existence anyway.”

You scoff. “Yes, but it’s not like they’re particularly fond of you, either.”

“Since when does that distress you?” He snaps right back at you, loving hands instantly withdrawn from their hold of you, clenching hard. “You can’t possibly take their input into consideration, can you?” 

For a moment, you simply stare at each other, eyes shooting angry stardust. You can feel a dry, nervous cough tickle at your throat, blood buzzing in your temples and pressing hard. You have to tell him. Preferably, now. 

Because Viktor is oblivious to the ultimatum you were given all those months ago. Here he is, looking down at you full of puzzled devotion, smug, and sweet and so utterly soft. Unaware of the fact that you are to be married to another man. To someone meticulously picked out by your parents, all tedious meetings and insipid speeches about how you should stick to someone of your own kind, ears bleeding to the sounds of all the demeaning crap about witnessing their noble boy’s downfall. 

But the worst part is: you still haven’t grown a fraction of a backbone. You bend to their will and adhere to self-pity, painfully wary of how to break this circle. It’s just that you let your fear prevail. 

And it’s a thing to be ashamed of. Because how dare you hold him close, all limbs intertwined and eyes locking with such yearning—all the while you fail to muster the courage to offer him elopement. Hell, to even tell him the truth. You don’t deserve him—not now, not ever. Cowards are not to form bonds with those who never ask for permission. 

And so you wet your lips, anxiously staring up. Your hands bonelessly dangle at your sides, terrified of reaching for him again. You’re going to tell him, it’s right there, at the tip of your tongue, threatening to leap out your mouth like an insult one doesn’t mean. You just have to do it like he does: be bold, be brave, start talking—

“Of course, Viktor,” you mumble instead, feeling shame creep up your throat. What a spineless creature. “I don’t care what they think. I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicker with that familiar, joyful spark of his. Fawning at you so gently that your heart almost bleeds through the fancy shirt, almost crumbling right then and there when he scoots closer again, hot breath fondling your face. You’re never going to tell him, are you? 

Something inside you dies when he kisses your cheek, lean body tensing atop you as he commences an embrace you return with guilty reluctance, hiding ugly tears in the mess of his hair. 

“Good,” Viktor whispers, holding you through your shudder. “Now, could you play me that nocturne I like, please?”

You grip the piano hard enough to leave nail marks on the gorgeous instrument.

[kamisobsessed]

Happy New Year, Soldier Boy

Characters: Soldier Boy x F!Reader, Annie x Reader (platonic), mentions of Hughie, Butcher, Frenchie, Kimiko, MM, etc.

Summary: Annie and Hughie invite you and the other members of 'The Boys' over for a New Years Eve party. You and Soldier Boy don't always get along. When the New Year is about to ring in, you don't have anyone share a New Year's kiss with, but Soldier Boy changes that.

Warnings: Enemies/lovers (sort of if you squint), Soldier Boy (because he's definitely a warning), swearing, fluff, sexual remarks, alcohol, no use of y/n.

A/N: Sorry if this sucks, I finished it quickly because I wanted to post it. I was debating on a smut part 2, but I'm still not confident in my smut writing skills. Let me know what you think!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Please you have to come, I don't care if you don't have a date, we have to celebrate New Years together," Annie said on the other end of the line.

You sat your phone down on your bed after pressing the speakerphone button. "Annie, I love you, but I really don't want to come to your party and be the third wheel between you and Hughie," you chuckled as you stood in your bedroom folding the laundry you just finished doing.

"No third wheeling I promise," she said "pinky swear."

"Fine, fine. What's the dress code?" you asked.

"Casual, whatever you are comfortable with, thank you for saying yes, how can I ring in the New Year if my best friend isn't around?" She teased.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure you would be just fine with your boyfriend," you replied.

"Maybe, but I still want you here too," she said.

"Okay, I'll be there. Don't expect me on time though," you said.

"You're never on time to anything, I would never expect that," she joked back, "I'll see you tonight!" and with that she hung up.

You put your folded clothes away and decided to take a shower before the party.

The party starts at 8, but you have never been known to show up to things on time. Always the procrastinator.

After your shower, you stood in front of your standing mirror trying to decide what outfit to wear. Eventually you went with your favorite party outfit. It was already 7:45pm and you just finished changing into your outfit and fixing your hair and applying some light makeup.

When 8 o'clock rolled around, you were just leaving your apartment. You let out a soft sigh as you entered your car to drive to Annie and Hughie's place for the party. You were hoping Annie's promise would stick.

--------------------------------------------------------

You pulled up to Annie and Hughie's and went up to their door and lightly knocked. The door swung open and Annie practically pulled you inside into a hug.

"I'm so glad you came!" She exclaimed, releasing you from the hug.

"Hope I didn't have to bring anything," you said, noticing the table of finger foods to eat.

"No, we got it all covered. Come on, we were gonna do karaoke," she said pulling you into the living room.

You scanned the room noticing Frenchie, Kimiko, MM, Monique, Butcher, and some other random people you didn't know.

And then you noticed him. Soldier Boy. Ever since he started working with The Boys, you and him constantly butt heads. He always has something to say about everything you do, or he's trying to get into your pants. He enjoys trying to get under your skin, so you give the same treatment back to him.

Sometimes you do find yourself wondering what it would be like, in bed with Soldier Boy. There's no denying how incredibly handsome he is. But the way he treats you and your friends, you could never do that.

Soldier Boy noticed you standing with Annie. He excused himself from the ladies who were gawking over him and made his way over to you.

"Why is he here?" You grumbled to Annie.

"We invited everyone, even him," Annie said. "Play nice."

"There is no playing nice with him," you said.

"Well look who decided to show up," he said, his infamous smirk plastered on his face.

"Piss off, Ben," you spat back.

"Have a heart, doll, it's almost a New Year!" he grinned, giving you a wink. You tried to hide the blush that began forming on your face.

"I need a drink," you sighed and you walked away to grab a drink from the minibar. You stood there taking a sip of whatever whiskey you poured yourself.

Annie called your name, "c'mon we're gonna start karaoke soon!" she said as she waved you over.

You headed back into the other room with everyone, standing with Annie. They put karaoke on the TV and people began taking turns singing songs.

Everyone eventually convinced Ben to sing Rapture. You just stood back against the wall nursing your whiskey, back behind everyone crowding around him. Everyone listened or danced along with Ben, but his eyes eventually found you. You noticed him staring at you, a smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes trying to look away from him, but his stupid little dance moves made the ends of your mouth slightly curl up. When he noticed your small smile, his smirk turned into a grin as he finished singing the song for everyone.

Ben made his way to you through the crowd of compliments on his performance. "You like the song?" he asked leaning back against the wall next to you.

"s'okay," you shrugged, looking anywhere in the room except at him.

"Back in the day that song was a hit, especially when I performed it," he said.

"Don't you have someone else to bother or some chick to fuck?" you asked, finally turning to look at him.

He smirked, "is that an invitation?"

Yes. No, no it wasn't, get it together.

You rolled your eyes walking back to the minibar to refill your whiskey. Ben followed you.

"I didn't hear a no," he said, "you know, with how bratty you are, you probably need a good fuck."

"You're insufferable," you said, "just leave me alone." you walked away again to go find Annie.

You tried to stay with or near Annie most of the night. It was almost midnight, you were standing back over by the wall like you were before. Annie was off somewhere with Hughie, and everyone else was getting ready to countdown the New Year.

A tall man walked over to you, "Hey beautiful, what're you doing over here all alone?" he asked you.

"I'm not interested," you say, trying to ignore him as he stood closer to you.

"It's New Year's, baby, everyone needs a New Year's kiss," he said, getting more and more uncomfortably close to you, no matter how much you tried stepping away.

Suddenly the man got yanked back away from you, "The lady said she's not interested, so fuck off," Ben said, pushing the man away.

The man walked away without a second thought.

"Wow, my hero," you said dryly.

"No need to thank me, doll," he grinned.

It was now 2 minutes til midnight, you and Ben were still standing by the wall as people watched the TV of the ball dropping in Times Square.

"I'm surprised you don't have some woman's throat you're ready to stick your tongue down," you said to him. In the back of your mind, you hoped it would be you.

"And leave you over here all mopey and alone?" he smirked.

"I'm fine on my own, I don't need you or anyone to keep me company," you lied. "Go find your New Year's kiss."

"I found it," he said looking at you.

10...9...8...7...

"What?" you said, as he reached his hands up cupping your face, "Ben..." you hesitate. You didn't stop him. Did you want this? Yes. Maybe? Too late now...Fuck he's so hot.

4...3...2...1...

He closed the gap between the both of you. His lips gently pressed against yours, you placed your hands on his chest as he held you close to him. Your lips moved together so in sync, you never wanted to let him go.

He pulled his lips away, leaning his forehead against yours. "Happy New Year, doll," he said.

You had a small smile on your face, "Happy New Year, Soldier Boy."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: Well, that was...that. Side note, I fucking love Soldier Boy. Like, I know he's a misogynistic, egotistic, asshole, but like...yes please.

Taglist: @sl33pylilbunny

[d1s1ntegrated]

I liked your “first time making out with Shigaraki” it was really cute would it be alright if I may request one with Spinner instead?

If you don’t do spinner stories or headcannons than that’s fine i understand. If not him than Dabi would be fine too😁

um. what the freak...JK! YEAAAAAH spinner needs sm love ill do u one better, ill do both AND remake shigaraki's here too since this ask is old (im so sorry it takes me lightyears to answer my inbox)😏

first time (+ song!)

-> first time making out hcs for the league boys: s.iguchi, t.todoroki, t.shigaraki (with an added song suggestion for ~immersion~)

cw: language, light smut, tension, smoking, heavy petting, etc

this isnt proofread lmk if there are typos IM SORRRYYYY

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

t.todoroki- as you sow. by Reaper (heady)

dabi's first time kissing you was actually soft, almost nervous

(he has since then gained the confidence to manhandle you.)

he didn't think you actually wanted to- you both sat in his room, on his small shitty bed, smoking out the window late at night. at that point, you'd made this a habit with him, it was the one moment of peace you both got each day.

it was always calm here. just the sounds of cars passing by, music droning softly from one of your phones usually- just to keep the "vibe". even in the small room, on a shitty mattress, you enjoyed your time together in easy silence.

sometimes though, you'd feel his eyes rake over your form- you'd play it off as a casual glance, but the way your body warmed at his jeweled gaze...it made you question things later at night. but you never brought it up.

the haze of smoke blankets the room heavily, catching flickers of the neon city lights from a distance. it always did look pretty out here, even from the run-down hideout.

one night, he opened the pack of cigarettes with a frown. you sat on his bed, looking into the box- just one left. maybe staring a bit would make another appear.

it didn't.

it was far too late to run out for more now, and you were both tired. you looked at him and pulled the dart from the box, nodding to him to light it. reluctantly, he presses his thumb to the end, a small flickering blue light singeing the tightly-rolled tobacco.

you bring it to your lips, taking a long drag with closed eyes. you bring yourself closer to him, cupping his cheek gently. "open your mouth," a small fluttering of smoke follows your words, and his eyes widen only slightly. hesitantly, his lips part.

as you're exhaling the smoke, he's breathing it in. you repeat this, his sapphire eyes falling half-closed as his heart races.

you're not even an inch away, your noses keep grazing each other as you swap smoke. each drag brings you closer, until he gets tired of it.

he brings you into his lap, muttering something about "wasting precious smoke", and you snake your legs around him.

the cigarette burns down to it's last hit, and you press the tip of it to his lips. he takes the final drag, his chest rising against your hand.

you mimic him now, parting your lips slightly, and he blows the smoke slowly into your mouth.

as you inhale the tail-end of the smoke, he grabs your face and leans in, pressing his lips into yours softly.

there's a taste beyond the smoke to his lips, something akin to citrus and mint.

you slip your tongue into his mouth, the smoke now billowing around the both of you as your breathing quickens, his hands gently tangling in your hair. you wrap your arms around him, emitting a soft moan from the man as he tastes you.

his hands are warm, but they're also much softer as they hold you. gentler. as if he's cautious- or holding himself back.

the heat rises between the both of you, and you graze your nails into his back gently.

he cant stop himself now. he pushes you down against the mattress, and you watch as the city lights catch his eyes before he peppers kisses down your jaw and neck, his hands dug into he bed on either side of you.

his kisses are purposeful, but not aggressive as he envelops you, and from there... the rest is history.

it becomes an unspoken rule between you two that you share one cigarette from now on.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

s.iguchi- words drowned by fireworks. by Nobuo Uematsu (ffVII OST)

you and spinner had bonded unusually well. you spent all your free time together.

you'd always sit next to each other during meetings, played games together (sometimes with shiggy- that cockblock lol), would even read manga or novels quietly together late at night on the old couch, huddled up to each other for warmth.

but...he genuinely didn't know why.

one night, he asks you bluntly, "why do you like me so much?"

he wasn't trying to be like that. hell, he just wanted to know why here, of all places, he had more friends than he ever did outside. especially with someone like you.

because to him, you were farrrr out of his league. you're ambitious, proud, strong...pretty. and he explained this to you, under the glow of the game start menu, big ruby eyes shining with apprehension.

and when you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, his heart jumps. and slowly, he clasps his fingers against yours, little claws brushing against your skin.

and you tell him everything you like about him. his courage, his loving nature, his jokes... all the fun you two had gaming and hanging out...how he became a warmth in cold places. god, you could go on.

but his head still hangs low, nervously chewing at his lip, messy orchid hair falling around his face a bit.

you shake your head, knowing you can't explain it any better than that. well, you can, but...no, fuck it.

you grab at his jaw, pressing your lips firmly onto his.

he's surprisingly soft. his skin, well- his scales- is a pleasant texture. smooth and supple. there wasn't a good way to describe it, but you liked it.

a lot.

god, and he smells so nice. its kind of tropical, like coconut and sandalwood, a warm bonfire on the beach almost.

meanwhile, he's overcome with feelings of shock, excitement, bewilderment. his nails dig further into your hand as he leans in, not missing the opportunity to finally fucking kiss you. after months of pining, trying so hard to just be friends.

everything is so soft, so gentle, and yet you cant help the pounding in your heart as you realize what's happening.

his tongue darts into your mouth without thinking- he just wants to taste you more. wants to be closer. you fall back into the couch as he brings himself above you. its a bit rushed, a bit shaky, but you can tell he's trying so hard to be "chill".

much like shigaraki, spinner is pent up. he's never done this before, he's so nervous, he's so turned on, oh my god... and so he presses himself firmly against you, against better judgement, unable to control his racing thoughts.

as you both pull away for a breath, you trail your fingers down his spine, his tail swinging slowly as he smiles down at you, blushing heavily.

"is that enough of an answer for you?"

"no, no, i think i need a little clarification" he smiles as he leans back in, not at all giving up this moment.

from now on, every time you hear that opening theme for that game, you get turned on.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

t.shigaraki - sex & super smash bros. by KYLE (beautiful loser)

(remake- check out the og post here!)

if there was one thing tomura was good at, my god, it was pissing you off.

he'd deliberately tease you all the time by hiding your things on tall shelves, stealing your snacks and clothes, basically laying claim on all of your items.

the worst of it was when you watched him as he entered your room, grabbed a hoodie from the hanger, put it on in front of you, and left without a word.

"shiggy, what the fuck, give it back!" you shout at him down the hall as he slumps back towards his room.

"nope, i'm cold and all mine are dirty."

"so go do laundry, you weirdo!" you grab him by the hood before he has a chance to close his door, and he chokes a bit with a laugh as he stumbles backwards.

he finds amusement in your frustration, and mocks you further as he turns around, wrapping his arms around himself to prevent you from stealing the hoodie off his back.

"what are you gonna do, noob?" he makes a stupid face as he laughs, and you huff and try and grab at the hoodie.

"come on, dude, you're gonna get all your gamer stink on my clothes" you fake whine as you chase him, his lanky figure handing him an advantage.

you've got him now- he's cornered in the hall. you lunge and begin to wrestle, eventually tumbling onto the floor in the hallway. you shriek as he tugs your hair, and you pinch his side tightly. the sound he manages to make is barely human, and you laugh a little too hard, letting go and falling into him.

he laughs, his raspy voice lightening as he squints up at you. "you're such a sweat. you own like, eighty hoodies anyways."

you scoff and roll your eyes. "stop fucking around and just give it back"

he shakes his head and challenges you further, his crimson eyes batting up at you with a smug look. he wiggles his fingers as if casting a spell, "you want me soooo bad, oooh." he does his best to keep a straight face as he continues, "you want me, so now you're begging me to take my clothes off oooh".

"they're MY clothes, shig!" you argue as you start pulling the hoodie strings.

he doesn't give a fuck about what you're saying, cause he just keeps going. "you wanna kiss me sooo bad. you're in loveee with me"

yeah, no, he's right. but he doesn't know that-he's just trying you to give him your usual "ew, fuck off" response, and leave him be. too bad now, because you decide to fight fire with fire.

"yeah, you're right." you retaliate, pressing your lips into his before he has a chance to respond. he hiccups in panic, his breath hitching in his chest. his breath is heavy with the taste of energy drinks- its sweet, its actually kind of...nice?

but he was clearly panicking, because his lips are pressed so tightly into a pout, it's kind of pathetic. so you pull away, gauging his reaction-he didn't like that you stopped. he pulls you back in, this kiss hungrier, his lips parting to push his tongue into your mouth desperately.

when you pull away to catch your breaths, you both stand and he drags you into his bedroom, pressing you against his door. he grinds against you with a soft moan, the sounds of his discord chat still going off on his headphones. oops!

when you finish making out (and he's definitely ruined his sweatpants) he asks you if you were serious.

"no, of course not. yes, you fucking idiot."

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank u for the ask <3 sorry its taking me so long to respond to these, im trying my best lol! but this was fun, hopefully spinner isn't too OOC,, tbh they prob all are oh well

[capquinn]

Hihi can we please have a sneak peek of the exfwb to lovers fix you mentioned you were working on I'm so excited to read it🥹🥹

you can have a whole 1.6k sneak peek bc i love u all and the canucks continue to make us feel miserable and also bc this is my fave scene thus far in the fic. enjoy jealous quinny <3

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The party hums around him, all laughter and low conversations mingling with the soft thrum of music echoing off the lake. The sunset paints the horizon in burnt orange and purple, but Quinn can’t focus on anything except you. And not in the way he normally does, with the familiar warmth of having you close — no, this was different. This is sharp and biting, twisting low in his stomach like a knot he can’t untangle.

Because you’re smiling at someone else.

“Man, you’re not even listening,” Trevor says, nudging Quinn’s shoulder with a beer bottle.

 Quinn blinks, dragging his eyes away from you for a second too long, his lips pressing into a tight line. Trevor follows his gaze, his brow quirking when he sees where Quinn’s attention has been stuck.

“Wait,” Trevor starts, leaning in slightly with a grin. “Is that — holy shit, is she flirting with that guy?” His voice is half amused, half incredulous, but all it does is tighten the knot in Quinn’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Quinn mutters, turning the bottle in his hand.

“Oh, come on. That’s definitely flirting,” Trevor continues, the grin widening. “That’s Jack’s buddy, isn’t it? Guy’s got no shot, though, right? She’s—”

“Can you not?” Quinn interrupts, his voice sharper than he means it to be. Trevor’s grin falters, and he raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to… whatever this is,” Trevor says, backing off with a shrug, though his gaze lingers on Quinn for a moment, a flicker of curiosity in his expression before he wanders off.

Quinn leans back against the deck railing, his beer growing warm in his hand as he watches you from across the yard. The guy is leaning in just a little too close, his laugh too loud, his hand brushing yours in a way that makes Quinn’s jaw tighten. You don’t pull away. Worse, you laugh back, tilting your head like whatever he’s saying is the funniest thing you’ve heard all night.

It isn’t the first time Quinn has seen you flirt with someone — it comes with the territory of being friends, or whatever the hell you are. But this time, it feels different. He hates how easily the guy makes you laugh, how he is saying all the right things, drawing you in with that stupid, effortless charm. This isn’t supposed to bother him. You aren’t his. Not anymore — not that you ever really were. 

And God, it does. It burns.

He tells himself he doesn’t have the right to feel this way. You’d made it clear — things are over, the line between friendship and something more firmly redrawn. You’d both agreed, hadn’t you? Yet here he is, standing in the shadow of his own deck, practically vibrating with the urge to march over there and put an end to it.

“Yo, Quinn!” Jack’s voice cuts through his haze, light with curiosity. Quinn forces himself to glance away, focusing on his brother as he approaches. “What’re you staring at?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly, his voice tight. Jack follows his line of sight, and when he spots you, his brows lift in surprise.

��Oh,” Jack says, drawing the word out. “She’s been talking to him all night. He’s a good guy, you know. Smart, funny—”

“Yeah, great,” Quinn cuts him off, his tone clipped and final.

Jack frowns, his curiosity clearly piqued but deciding not to push. Instead, he launches into a long-winded tangent about the game they played the last time they were at the lake house, his hands gesturing animatedly as he recounts some ridiculous move Luke pulled off on the dock that ended with everyone soaked.

Quinn takes a long sip of his beer, the bitterness doing little to distract him from the pang in his chest. He glances away, forcing himself to look anywhere but at you, to shove the jealousy down somewhere deep and immovable, like he always does when it comes to you. The laughter of his brothers, the flicker of the string lights overhead, even the waves lapping gently at the dock. But his gaze finds its way back to you, time and time again, like gravity has shifted to centre solely on you.

And then it happens.

Your hand drifts to the guy’s arm, light as a whisper, a touch so casual it might seem accidental to anyone else. But not to Quinn. He knows you — knows the quiet intention behind every gesture you make. He sees the way your fingers linger, your thumb brushing just barely over the fabric of his sleeve, like you’re testing the waters, letting this guy know he has your attention. 

And the guy? He notices immediately. His grin stretches wider, his posture straightens like he’s just hit the jackpot, and suddenly, he’s leaning in closer, his laugh dropping an octave, smooth and practiced. Quinn doesn’t need to hear the words to know exactly what’s being said, the way the guy’s body language shifts — open, inviting, cocky. It’s infuriating.

Quinn feels his stomach twist, a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curling low and hot in his chest. His grip tightens around the neck of his beer, the glass growing slippery in his hand as his jaw sets hard. He can feel it — the heat rising under his skin, the bitter taste of resentment burning the back of his throat. This is ridiculous, he tells himself.  But knowing that doesn’t stop the burning, twisting ache that flares every time the guy’s hand comes dangerously close to yours.

But it’s useless. His attention snaps back, drawn as if you’re tethered together by some inviolable string, to the way you’re standing just a little too close, the way you laugh too easily at whatever idiotic joke the guy has just told.

Quinn’s chest tightens, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the neck of his beer, each beat an outlet for the frustration coiling tighter in his chest. He tells himself to let it go, to shove the jealousy down deep where he’s buried everything else about you — the feelings he’s not supposed to have anymore. But then your hand lingers again, this time softer, your fingertips grazing over the guy’s skin, and something inside him snaps. His pulse spikes, his jaw clenches, and the bitter taste of jealousy rises, unrelenting.

He feels unmoored, a storm building just beneath his ribcage, and no amount of deep breathing is enough to calm it. His instincts scream at him to move, to intervene, to shatter the moment unfolding in front of him. But he doesn’t. He can’t. Instead, he stays rooted to the spot, his beer warm in his hand, his eyes betraying him as they keep flicking back to you.

When the guy leans in closer, his laugh low and confident, it’s too much. Quinn’s shoulders go rigid, and he turns sharply, retreating into the house under the pretence of grabbing another beer. 

“Be right back,” he mutters, back already turned before anyone can question him.

He strides into the kitchen, the cool air brushing against his face as he yanks the fridge door open. His hand rests on the edge of the door, fingers tapping absently as he stares into the shelves without really seeing anything. The chill against his skin does little to temper the heat crawling up his neck or the way his pulse still pounds in his ears.

The sound of the back door creaking open is followed by familiar footsteps, and moments later, Jack appears in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and concern.

“You good?” Jack asks, his tone light but pointed, a faint thread of amusement weaving through it.

Quinn doesn’t look up, his jaw tightening as he keeps his focus on the rows of condiments.

Jack’s watching him, brows raised, waiting for a response. But Quinn doesn’t have one — not one he can say out loud, anyway. He can’t tell his brother what’s gnawing at him because no one ever knew. No one knew about the late nights, the secret glances, the way you and Quinn blurred every line until you were both too tangled to see where friendship ended and something else began, until the only thing clear was how much it hurt when you walked away.

Not even Jack.

So instead of spilling what’s really on his mind, he shrugs, feigning nonchalance that feels like it might crack under the weight of his frustration. 

“Just tired,” he mutters, tipping the warm beer to his lips like it’s a shield. He doesn’t meet Jack’s eyes, hoping the excuse is enough to deflect.

Jack leans back, the edge of the counter catching his hip, and his brows lift slightly, skeptical but willing to let it go. 

“Alright,” he says after a moment, his tone light but not entirely without weight. There’s something knowing in it, a brotherly intuition that Quinn wishes wasn’t so sharp. 

“But, you know,” Jack adds, his voice easy but edged with meaning, “you don’t have to be so tough all the time. If something’s up, you can just say it.”

Quinn exhales, a quiet, frustrated sound that doesn’t quite pass for a laugh. But he doesn’t answer, his eyes flicking toward the back door. He doesn’t need to talk — what good would it do? Explaining any of it would mean peeling back layers he’s spent months trying to bury. Layers of wanting you, missing you, resenting the way you could move on so easily when he couldn’t.

The knot in his chest twists tighter as he catches another faint ripple of laughter from the yard, your laughter, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re as carefree as you seem, or if it’s just another thing you’re better at pretending. Because if anyone knew how to pretend, it was Quinn. And right now, he’s pretending it doesn’t tear him apart to see you looking at someone else the way he wishes you’d still look at him.

[zylokv]

KEY TO CHAOS — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — revelation at its finest.

word count ! — 6,4k

— myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.

series masterlist !

part four !

the event is in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air as people mingle. mina’s family spared no expense, of course. the garden is illuminated with twinkling lights, tables laden with food and drinks, and a small orchestra playing softly in the background.

hiro sits on my lap, his small fingers curiously tugging at the bow tie around his neck. “you don’t like it either, huh?” i chuckle, loosening my own tie to match.

hiro rests easily in your arms, his tiny hand clutching at your tie as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever held.

“you’ve got quite the grip, little man,” you murmur, watching him curiously. “must’ve gotten that from your mom. she’s got the same tenacity—doesn’t let go of an argument either.”

hiro gurgles in response, his wide eyes fixated on you, and you laugh quietly. “oh, you think i’m kidding? wait until you’re old enough to see her in action. your mom’s like a storm, and you—” you brush a finger over his soft cheek, smiling. “you’re the calm after.”

“you’re really something, you know that?” sana’s voice interrupts gently from beside you, and when you glance over, she’s watching you with a faint smile.

“what can i say?” you reply, shifting hiro in your arms and giving her a wry grin. “he’s an easy audience. laughs at all my jokes.”

sana chuckles, reaching out to pat your shoulder lightly. “that’s because you’re talking about mina. everyone knows you’re a sucker for her.”

“oh, absolutely,” you say, pretending to whisper conspiratorially to hiro. “don’t tell her, though. she might start taking advantage of it.”

hiro babbles in agreement—or maybe dissent—and sana outright laughs this time, a soft, genuine sound that surprises you.

“you’re good with him,” she says after a moment, her tone quieter now. “and with mina.”

“i do my best,” you reply, glancing down at hiro again. “though sometimes i feel like i’m just making it up as i go.”

“well that's parenthood,” she teases, her hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before she steps back, letting her gaze drift to the koi pond.

hiro coos again, and you look down to see him reaching for sana. “see? even he thinks you’re alright,” you say, grinning.

“well, he’s got good taste,” sana quips, but there’s a warmth in her smile that’s hard to miss.

as much as i’m enjoying the moment, i need a break. handing hiro over to sana, who happily takes him, i excuse myself and wander through the dimly lit paths of the estate.

my steps lead me to the side garden, quieter here, the sounds of the event muffled. i’m distracted enough that i don’t notice the figure until i bump into him.

“watch it,” i mutter, stepping back and glaring. it’s sehun.

his smug smile makes my blood boil instantly. “well, well,” he drawls, brushing off his suit. “if it isn’t the perfect spouse.”

“why are you even here??” i snap, already regretting not avoiding him.

he pulls a usb drive from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers before tossing it at me. i catch it, glaring at him.

“consider it a favor,” he says smoothly. “you saved me and my family from that scandal. think of this as my way of saving your life.”

my grip tightens on the usb. “what’s on here?”

“answers,” he says cryptically, his smirk widening. “but be careful. you might not like the questions.”

“why shouldn’t i knock you out right now?” i growl, stepping closer.

he shrugs, completely unfazed. “because you’re smarter than that. besides,” he adds, his voice dripping with fake sincerity, “i’m thankful. truly.”

without another word, he walks off, leaving me standing there seething and confused.

shaking my head, i pocket the usb and head to the bathroom. splashing cold water on my face, i lean against the sink, trying to make sense of what just happened.

eventually, i make my way back to the party. sana’s still there with hiro, now gently rocking him in her arms. she looks up as i approach, frowning slightly.

“you okay?” she asks, her tone laced with concern.

i hesitate but nod. “yeah. just… ran into someone.”

“seems like it rattled you.” she raises an eyebrow, watching me carefully.

“it’s nothing,” i lie, taking hiro from her arms and holding him close. but my mind’s already spinning, the usb in my pocket burning like a brand.

before i can dwell on it further, i feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around my waist from behind. “there you are,” mina murmurs, her voice low and warm against my ear.

i turn slightly, and she’s looking up at me with a smile that sends a rush of warmth through my chest. her lips brush against my jaw, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

“i missed you,” she says softly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against my shirt.

“didn’t think i was gone that long,” i joke, but my voice comes out a little breathless.

“too long,” she counters, tugging me closer. her gaze flickers to hiro, and she presses a soft kiss to his forehead before turning her full attention back to me.

“you look stressed,” she observes, her hands sliding up to straighten my collar, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “maybe you should take a break from the party…”

“baby,” i start, but her lips are already brushing against mine, silencing whatever excuse i was about to make.

it’s quick, fleeting, but the promise in her gaze as she pulls back makes my pulse race.

“come find me later,” she whispers, her tone leaving little room for interpretation.

hiro babbles in my arms, pulling my attention back just enough to keep me grounded, but mina’s touch lingers like a ghost, her warmth impossible to ignore.

-----

the faint click of mina’s heels echoed through the penthouse as she stepped inside, her posture as poised as ever, though a hint of fatigue lingered in her movements. the day had been long—meetings at the myoui corporation rarely allowed for anything less—but the sight before her was enough to soften the sharp edges of her mood.

you were sprawled on the living room floor, hiro in your lap, both of you surrounded by a colorful mess of building blocks and toy cars. hiro squealed with laughter as you made exaggerated engine noises, pushing a tiny car toward him.

“incoming! brace for impact!” you said dramatically, making hiro giggle so hard he toppled over.

mina leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “hard at work, i see.”

“very important business,” you replied, glancing up at her with a playful grin. “hiro’s been giving me driving lessons. apparently, i’m a terrible driver.”

hiro chimed in with a cheerful babble, as if to prove your point, sending another car skidding across the floor.

mina chuckled softly, slipping off her heels and stepping closer. “sounds accurate.”

you feigned offense, placing a hand over your chest. “et tu, mina? my own wife, siding with the critic!”

hiro clapped his hands, clearly entertained by your theatrics. he made grabby hands reaching for mina.

she scooped him up effortlessly, holding him close. “hi, baby,” she murmured, her voice tender as she kissed his cheek. “did you miss me?”

hiro nodded enthusiastically, wrapping his tiny arms around her neck. the sight made your chest ache in the best way—a moment of softness amidst the chaos of life.

“you two looked like you were having fun,” mina said, glancing at the mess of toys.

“he’s a harsh boss, but the pay’s great,” you quipped, getting up and stretching. “all smiles and giggles.”

mina gave you a knowing look, her eyes softening. “you’re good with him,” she said quietly, almost as if the admission surprised even her.

you shrugged, trying to downplay the compliment. “he makes it easy.”

hiro yawned then, rubbing his eyes, his energy finally winding down. mina looked at you, and you nodded toward the nursery. “i’ll handle it,” you offered.

“let’s do it together,” she said, surprising you.

the two of you guided hiro to his room, the bedtime ritual filled with whispers and soft laughter. once he was settled, you kissed his forehead and stood back as mina brushed his hair gently, her expression unreadable yet serene.

when you stepped out, closing the door behind you, mina sighed lightly, the sound breaking the quiet of the hallway.

“we need to leave soon,” she said softly, slipping her arm through yours as you walked back to the living room. “the party is this weekend, and i don’t want us scrambling at the last minute.”

you chuckled. “scrambling is my middle name. but don’t worry, we’ll be ready.”

mina gave you a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she glanced toward your office door, her fingers brushing her wrist. “i don’t know why, but… i’ve had this strange feeling all day. like something’s coming.”

“something good, i hope?” you joked lightly, trying to lift the mood.

“maybe,” she said, but her gaze lingered, just for a moment, on the small desk in your office, where a single usb drive sat, unnoticed. then she turned back to you, shaking her head as if to dismiss the thought. “let’s just enjoy tonight.”

you nodded, squeezing her hand. “sounds like a plan, boss.”

her smile grew, and with that, the two of you settled into the evening, unaware of the weight the future would soon bring.

-----

the gentle hum of the yacht’s engines barely masks the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses. you’re on the upper deck, sharing light banter with sana and momo while trying to stay out of the spotlight.

“you’re really not built for this scene, are you?” sana teases, her eyes flicking over the polished crowd below.

you shrug. “never claimed to be.”

momo chuckles. “at least you’re honest. i’d say you’re doing fine. no one’s thrown you overboard yet.”

just as you’re about to retort, a familiar voice interrupts. “wow. never thought i’d see you here.”

you freeze, the playful smile on your face faltering. turning slowly, you find yourself face-to-face with kim jennie, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. she’s dressed in something sleek and black, the kind of outfit that screams understated elegance.

“jennie…” her name feels heavy, like saying it aloud makes everything from the past resurface all at once.

“i didn’t know you’d climbed so high up the social ladder,” she says, her tone dripping with curiosity and something else—something smug. “this isn’t really your scene, is it?”

before you can respond, momo steps forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “who’s this?”

“an old friend,” jennie answers for you, her gaze fixed on you, like momo isn’t even there. “we go way back.”

“really?” sana crosses her arms, her protective stance almost comical if it weren’t for the tension in the air.

you glance between them, your heart racing. “it’s fine. jennie’s… not a threat.”

jennie’s smile widens, and she steps closer, her voice dropping just enough to be intimate. “not a threat? you wound me.”

“what do you want?” you ask quietly, trying to ignore the way her presence makes you feel—conflicted, nervous, and a little exposed.

“what i’ve always wanted—to talk to you.” she glances at sana and momo with a faint smirk. “unless your new bodyguards don’t approve?”

“bodyguards?” sana scoffs. “oh, please.”

jennie chuckles, leaning in closer to you. “you’ve changed,” she murmurs, her voice soft but teasing. “but not completely. you’re still nervous.”

“i’m not—” you start, but she interrupts by wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a sudden, unwelcome hug. “i missed you,” she says, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

that’s when mina appears.

the tension on the private deck feels suffocating, the hum of the yacht’s engines doing little to mask the storm brewing in mina’s sharp gaze. she stares at jennie for a moment, her confusion evident before her expression morphs into something closer to disdain.

“and you are?” mina asks, her tone icy, the slight tilt of her head exuding condescension.

jennie’s smirk falters for a fraction of a second before she recovers, her voice dripping with forced confidence. “kim jennie. i’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

mina blinks, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “oh, should i have? forgive me. the name doesn’t ring a bell. are you someone important?”

you glance between them, your heart sinking as you see jennie’s composure start to crack.

“important enough,” jennie replies tightly, her smirk struggling to hold. “but i suppose not everyone keeps up with those at the top.”

mina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “the top? darling, if you were anywhere near the top, i’d know. you’re barely even a blip on the radar.”

jennie’s expression hardens, her pride clearly stung. “funny, coming from someone who didn’t even know about their partner’s past.”

mina’s smile vanishes, her eyes narrowing. “and what exactly are you implying?”

“oh, just that your precious partner and i were engaged once,” jennie says smoothly, her gaze darting to you for maximum effect.

the air grows colder. mina’s laugh is low and dangerous, her hands slowly crossing over her chest. “engaged?” she repeats, as though the word itself is offensive. “to you? now that’s the funniest thing i’ve heard all evening.”

“it’s true,” jennie presses, taking a small step forward. “but i suppose they didn’t think you were worth knowing the whole story.”

mina’s eyes narrow to you, her rage sharpening like a blade. “engaged?” she spits, her voice teetering between disbelief and fury. “you were fucking engaged? not just a little girlfriend, but a full-blown fiancée?”

“mina, it’s not what it sounds like—”

“so, it is true,” she cuts you off, her voice low but seething. she turns back to jennie, her disdain reaching new heights. “you were engaged to them? how quaint. and yet here you are, clinging to their shadow like an embarrassing footnote.”

jennie bristles, her smirk dropping entirely. “careful, myoui. you might want to check your facts before acting so high and mighty.”

mina’s laugh is low and menacing, her fists clenching at her sides. “you think this is a joke? i could ruin you, kim. i could make sure the entire kim family crumbles beneath their precious name. your little corporation? gone. your face? wiped from every corner of the industry. you’d be lucky if you could scrape by selling knockoff jewelry on the street.”

“oh, come on,” jennie presses, stepping closer. “don’t be so mad. you didn’t think you were their first, did you?” her smirk deepens. “although, i’ll admit, i thought i’d be the last.”

“get out,” mina says through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with restrained fury.

jennie straightens herself, trying to retain some dignity she had left. “oh, mina. you’re so predictable. it’s almost boring.”

before anyone can stop her, jennie leans in, her lips brushing your cheek in a deliberate, calculated move.

the world seems to stop for a second, the touch burning like a brand.

and then mina snaps.

before anyone can react, mina grabs a glass of champagne off a nearby table and tosses it in jennie’s direction. the liquid splashes across her pristine black dress, and jennie lets out a shocked gasp.

“are you fucking insane?!” she roars, lunging toward jennie. you barely have time to grab her arm, holding her back with all your strength.

jennie steps back, scoffing slightly when she sees the tainted stain in her designer dress. “relax, mina. it’s just a goodbye. no harm in that, right?”

“goodbye? goodbye?! you’re about to say goodbye to your fucking career!” mina’s voice shakes with fury, her arm trembling in your grip. “let me go,” she snarls at you, her glare cutting like a blade. “let me fucking handle this.”

“mina, please,” you plead, your heart racing as you glance around, thankful that the deck is private. if anyone had witnessed this, the headlines would be catastrophic.

“you like making a scene, don’t you?” mina sneers. “well, here’s your fucking scene. you can explain to everyone why you’re soaking wet—and why you’re about to be thrown off this goddamn yacht.”

jennie’s eyes widen. “you wouldn’t—”

“try me,” mina snaps, stepping closer until she’s nearly nose-to-nose with her. “because right now? I’d love nothing more than to see you flailing in the fucking ocean.”

“mina, stop,” you beg, grabbing her arm.

“no! they don’t get to walk away like this!” mina turns her glare back to jennie, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. “you have five seconds to leave before i personally make sure the kim name gets wiped off every relevant ledger in korea.”

jennie chuckles, raising her hands in mock surrender. “well, this has been… entertaining.” she glances at you one last time, her smirk returning. “i see your taste hasn't changed”

and with that, she saunters away, leaving behind a storm of rage and chaos

“you listen!” she rounds on you, her hands shaking. “what the fuck was that? were you seriously just going to stand there like an idiot while your ex has the audacity to put her hands on you?”

“i didn’t ask her to—”

“but you didn’t stop her either!” her voice cracks, raw and vulnerable beneath the anger. “do you know how humiliating that was for me? do you even care?”

you open your mouth to respond, but her words keep coming, unstoppable and cutting.

“and her—the audacity she has to act like you’re still hers? does she not know who the fuck i am? do you not know who i am?” she steps closer, her eyes burning into yours. “because i can remind both of you. i’ll make her regret even looking in your direction, and you—you better start know where your loyalties lie, or so help me—”

“mina,” a voice cuts in, and you glance to see momo and sana standing nearby, both wide-eyed.

momo whistles low under her breath. “holy shit.”

sana, meanwhile, places a hand on your shoulder, her expression a mix of pity and slight amusement. “good luck,” she murmurs, patting you twice before stepping back.

mina turns to them, her glare making both of them tense. “what are you looking at?”

“nothing,” momo says quickly, raising her hands in surrender. “absolutely nothing.”

when they leave, mina’s shoulders heave with her rapid breaths.

“i can’t fucking believe this,” she mutters, her hands running through her hair as she paces. “unbelievable.”

you stand there, unsure of what to say, the weight of her anger settling like a storm cloud over the two of you.

“mina,” you say softly, careful not to push too hard.

“you don’t need to waste another second thinking about her,” you continue. “she’s nothing compared to you, mina. you know that, don’t you?”

mina exhales sharply, crossing her arms as she paces. “it’s not about her being nothing—it’s about the audacity. she thinks she can just—just touch you, talk to you like that, after everything? and then act like i’m the one overreacting?”

you step into her path, gently catching her by the shoulders. “you’re not overreacting. she crossed a line, and you had every right to put her in her place.”

mina’s gaze flickers to yours, searching your expression for something.

“but,” you continue, “i don’t want you to carry this anger. it’s not worth it. let me handle her from here, legally and otherwise. you don’t need to waste your energy on someone so beneath you.”

she huffs, her frustration ebbing slightly. “and what if she tries something again?”

“she won’t,” you say firmly. “i’ll make sure of it. if she does, she’ll regret it in ways even she can’t imagine. i’ve handled worse than her, mina. trust me.”

mina’s lips press into a thin line, but the tension in her shoulders eases just a little.

you guide her to the seating area on the deck and gently sit her down, kneeling in front of her. “you’ve been carrying this whole night on your shoulders, haven’t you? dealing with guests, smiling for appearances, and then this? you don’t have to do it alone, mina.”

she exhales, leaning back slightly as she studies you. “you think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

you shake your head. “I’m not going to let her get away with this.”

mina lets out a low, humorless laugh. “you think she cares about laws? she’s shameless.”

“then i’ll make her care,” you reply, your voice hardening. “if she tries to push her luck again, i’ll file a restraining order. Hell, i’ll drag her through court for every slight against you. I’m a lawyer, mina. i know how to win, and i’ll do it for you.”

mina stares at you, her anger simmering down into something else—something softer.

“and another thing,” you add, stepping even closer. “you’re worried about her touching me? don’t be. i didn’t ask for it, and i sure as hell didn’t want it. you’re the only one who has a place in my life, mina. not her. not anyone else.”

mina exhales sharply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “you always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

for the first time all night, a genuine smile tugs at her lips, even if it’s faint. she reaches out, her hand brushing yours. “you really are lucky i married you.”

“luckiest person alive,” you reply, standing and offering your hand.

she takes your hand, rising gracefully to her feet. “fine. but don’t think i’ve forgiven you for not telling me about her being your ex-fiancée.”

“i’ll make it up to you,” you mumble, squeezing her hand lightly. “as many times as it takes.”

“you’re dangerous,” mina mutters, but there’s a hint of pride in her voice.

“only when someone messes with you,” you reply, leading her back inside.

-----

you’d never been one for early morning jogs, but with hiro gone with sana, as well as mina gone working for a few hours, it seemed like a good way to clear your head. sweat dripped down your temple as you trudged up to the penthouse door, already regretting not bringing water. as you reached for the handle, your eyes snagged on a package sitting neatly on the doormat.

a box.

not just any box—fancy. clean lines, rich leather accents, and a ribbon so perfectly tied it looked like it had been crafted by angels.

your first thought? "is this a bomb?"

but then again, what kind of assassin spends that much on aesthetics? shaking your head, you muttered under your breath, “no way someone’s going full james bond to take me out. right?”

after a long, overly dramatic stare-off with the box, you picked it up and carried it inside.

“okay, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, setting it on the counter. “it’s probably from mina. or…. mina..?” you trailed off, suddenly unsure.

peeling back the ribbon, you found a letter on crisp, expensive paper, no signature, no name. just a simple line:

"for you. something that matches your worth."

“cryptic. love that,” you muttered, fishing through the box.

and then, your heart stopped.

a pair of ferrari car keys rested snugly in velvet, gleaming like they held the secrets of the universe.

your jaw dropped. “no way.”

half-jogging, half-sprinting, you grabbed your phone and bolted to the building’s parking level. a sleek ferrari sf90 sat under the dim lights, its pristine red exterior practically glowing.

“holy shit,” you whispered, fumbling with the keys. a quick press, and the car chirped in response.

it was real. it was yours.

sliding into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t resist pulling out your phone, snapping a picture as you grinned like an idiot, one hand on the steering wheel. you sent it to mina with a simple caption:

"look what showed up today!"

mina’s reply came fast. "you bought this? without telling me?"

your fingers hovered over the screen, your excitement faltering. “wait. mina didn’t you buy it?”

before you could type more, your phone ringed. it was her.

“hello?” you answered, still grinning.

“you didn’t buy it?” her voice was calm, but there was an edge—cold, sharp. “then who did?”

“i thought it was you,” you said, scratching your head. “i mean… it’s my dream car. you didn’t—?”

mina’s silence was deafening. then: “why would i buy you a car and not tell you?”

“uh…”

“and why would someone else buy it for you? who?” she demanded, her voice dipping into that dangerous, territorial tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“mina, i don’t know!” you said, defensive. “it came with an anonymous note! look, i’ll figure it out. but isn’t it gorgeous?”

“that’s not the point,” she snapped, and then, softer, with a touch of embarrassment, “i didn’t even know it was your dream car.”

“well, now you do,” you teased lightly, though her reaction had your heart sinking just a little.

she exhaled, clearly annoyed. “don’t touch it until we figure out who sent it. i don’t like this.”

“seriously?” you whined, slumping in the seat. “you’re going to make me leave it here?”

“yes,” she said firmly, then hung up before you could argue.

sighing, you stared at the car’s flawless interior. “well, this sucks,” you muttered, reluctantly stepping out.

as you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, a pang of longing twisting in your chest. whoever sent this wasn’t just rich—they had taste. but something about it didn’t sit right.

and mina’s unease? it wasn’t going anywhere.

-----

mina’s office was immaculate, its minimalist decor reflecting the precision with which she managed her empire. she leaned back in her leather chair, phone still clutched tightly in her hand. the call with you had ended minutes ago, but the sharp edge in her voice lingered, echoing in the silence of the room.

“dahyun.”

the door to her office creaked open, and dahyun stepped in hesitantly, clutching a tablet. her composed exterior betrayed a flicker of unease as she caught sight of mina’s expression—cold, calculating, and ever so slightly unsteady.

“yes, president myoui?” dahyun’s voice was even, though her fingers tightened around the tablet.

mina didn’t look up immediately. her nails tapped against the desk in a rhythm that matched the clipped cadence of her words. “i need you to go to the penthouse. now.”

dahyun blinked, processing the suddenness of the order. “to… your penthouse? is there an issue?”

mina’s gaze snapped up, and dahyun stiffened under the weight of it. “someone sent them a car,” mina said flatly. “a ferrari.”

“a car?” dahyun echoed, momentarily thrown off. “as in—”

“a ferrari sf90,” mina interrupted, the words laced with a bitterness that made dahyun’s stomach churn. “in red. parked at the entrance of my penthouse.”

dahyun’s jaw tightened as she nodded. “understood. i’ll—”

“find out who sent it,” mina continued, her voice cutting through dahyun’s attempt to speak. “i want every detail—who, how, why. and i want their connections traced. personal, professional, everything.”

“of course,” dahyun said quickly, her pen already moving across her tablet.

“also…” mina’s voice dipped, a hint of something darker curling around the edges. “reach out to ferrari’s local representatives. find the top five models—not just any. the best. i want them bought, prepped, and delivered within the week.”

dahyun froze for a fraction of a second before nodding. “for the penthouse garage?”

mina finally leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk as she steepled her fingers. her expression softened, but only slightly, as she murmured, “for my spouse. but make sure they know it’s from me. no anonymous packages, no surprises. understood?”

“understood.” dahyun turned to leave but hesitated at the door. “president myoui, if i may—do you believe this is a threat?”

mina’s gaze flickered, just for a moment, betraying the undercurrent of unease she so carefully concealed. “if it’s not a threat, it’s a provocation. either way, i don’t take kindly to either.”

dahyun nodded and exited swiftly, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

alone once more, mina stared out the vast glass windows of her office. her reflection gazed back, a mask of calm, but beneath it, her mind raced. who would dare try to undermine her like this?

she tapped her phone against the desk again, lips pressing into a thin line.

whoever it was, they’d soon learn what it meant to challenge a myoui.

-----

you toss your phone onto the couch after finishing the call with mina, her cold tone still lingering in your mind. grabbing a towel, you wipe the sweat off your neck, muttering to yourself, “ferrari drama—what even is my life now?”

the shower feels like a reset button, washing away the lingering tension. when you step out, you grab your phone again, scrolling aimlessly through your messages. your thumb hovers over sana’s chat. she’d probably have something sarcastic to say about the whole ferrari thing, and honestly, you kind of want that right now.

how’s hiro? terrorizing everything already?

it takes less than a minute for her to reply.

of course. he takes after you. he’s currently declaring war on some poor stuffed giraffe.

you chuckle, shaking your head as you pace around the living room, still drying your hair. boredom creeps in, and before you know it, your fingers are typing again. yeah, and i have some drama to tell you. drama? oh, you’re coming over. hiro misses you anyway.

you don’t need more convincing. grabbing your keys, you head out, opting for a casual drive to sana’s place.

when you arrive, you open the door quickly while it swings open. hiro waddles toward you, his tiny hands outstretched.

“there’s my guy!” you scoop him up, laughing as he babbles something incomprehensible. sana leans against the doorframe, watching with a smirk.

“wow, i can tell you spoil him,” she says, closing the door behind you.

“can you blame me?” you joke, setting hiro down as he toddles back to his toys. you flop onto the couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. “so, where’s momo?”

sana shrugs, plopping down in a chair across from you. “dunno. she said something about errands. why, you miss her?”

“not particularly,” you say, smirking. “besides, i came here for the better company.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, and i'm saying that to momo,” she quips. “so, what’s this drama you were dying to tell me about?”

you lean back, running a hand through your hair. “someone gave me a ferrari.”

sana blinks, then bursts into laughter. “wait, wait, hold on. someone gave you a ferrari? what are you, a lottery winner now?”

“i wish,” you say, shaking your head. “no idea who it’s from. it just showed up at my doorstep with a fancy box and a key.”

“and you just… took it?” sana looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“what was i supposed to do? leave it there and risk someone else taking it?”

“wow.” she leans back, crossing her arms. “so, let me get this straight. someone mysteriously sends you a car, and instead of thinking, ‘this is sketchy,’ you think, ‘free ferrari’? you’re unbelievable.”

you shrug, grinning. “what can i say? i like nice things.”

hiro, oblivious to the conversation, crawls onto your lap, clutching a toy car in his tiny hands. “look, hiro already approves,” you say, holding up the toy. “he’s clearly a car enthusiast, just like me.”

sana rolls her eyes, laughing. “you’re both ridiculous.”

“ridiculous? or ahead of the curve?” you shoot back, bouncing hiro gently on your lap. “you’re just jealous no one sent you a ferrari.”

“oh, please.” sana leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “even if someone did, i wouldn’t be dumb enough to actually drive it. what if it’s, like, a bribe or something?”

you snort. “a bribe? for what? to win over my nonexistent loyalty?”

“i mean, you are a lawyer,” she says, smirking. “who knows what shady deals you’re unknowingly part of?”

“says the woman who’s friends with someone who owns a ferrari.”

“correction—mysteriously owns a ferrari,” she quips, her grin widening. “and for the record, you’re lucky mina didn’t immediately torch the thing out of spite.”

you pause, recalling mina’s initial reaction. “oh, she was mad.”

“mad? understatement of the year,” sana says, leaning back with a knowing look. “you know, if i were her, i’d be freaking out, too. mysterious car, anonymous gift, my partner looking all cute— it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“cute?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, don’t let it go to your head,” she says, waving you off. “i’m just saying mina’s reaction is totally valid. i mean, who wouldn’t feel a little threatened?”

“right, because i’m so irresistible,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“hey, your words, not mine.”

hiro clung to your neck like a koala, his little hands tugging gently at your shirt. you sat back on the couch, settling him on your chest while sana perched on the armrest, her gaze curious.

“okay, spill,” she said, crossing her arms. “who sends you a ferrari? is it someone trying to one-up mina or what?”

you snorted, running a hand through hiro’s soft hair. “god, i hope not. mina was already ready to storm the gates when i told her about it.”

sana leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “so you really don’t know who sent it? no guesses?”

“none.” you shrugged, trying to seem indifferent even though you could tell sana was practically vibrating with curiosity. “it’s probably nothing. mina doesn’t even want me driving it. she said she’d ‘take care of it.’”

“take care of it?” sana echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that sounds ominous.”

“it’s mina. ominous is her second language.” you smirked, glancing at hiro, who was now dozing off. “besides, it’s not like i’m keeping it. mina thinks it's ridiculous. I'd say she's just jealous.”

sana shook her head, her laugh light but tinged with disbelief. “you’re way too chill about this. if someone sent me a ferrari, i’d at least want to know who thought it was worth it to give me something like that”

“that’s because you’re nosy,” you teased, adjusting hiro carefully. “i’m just trying to survive mina’s jealousy and keep the peace.”

sana rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “whatever, mystery car owner. just know, if it were momo, she'd be driving that thing straight out of the city before mina even got a whiff of it.”

“yeah, and she'd probably crash it before she hit second gear,” you shot back, earning a playful swat to your shoulder.

as the playful banter subsided, you glanced down at hiro, whose peaceful face was a stark contrast to the storm of events swirling around you lately.

“he’s really got you wrapped around his little finger, huh?” sana remarked softly, watching you.

“yeah,” you murmured, your voice fond. “can’t say i mind, though.”

sana smiled, her usual mischievousness giving way to something warmer. “you’re good with him. i can see why mina fell for you.”

you glanced up, surprised by her sincerity, but she quickly waved you off with a smirk. “don’t let it get to your head. you’re still a pain.”

“thanks, sana,” you deadpanned, shifting to lay hiro down gently on the couch.

the conversation fizzled out as you both sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the day settling in. still, you couldn’t help but feel that the mystery surrounding the car—and the sender—wasn’t over yet.

-----

you’re sprawled on the living room floor, glasses perched low on your nose, dressed in an old white t-shirt and grey sweatpants that have seen better days. hiro sits cross-legged beside you, his tiny hands fumbling with the colorful puzzle pieces you’ve been trying to help him with.

“it’s this one,” you say, pointing to a bright red piece. “look at the edges. see how it matches?”

hiro scrunches his face in determination before carefully slotting the piece into place. his delighted squeal is worth every second of the struggle.

“genius,” you declare, dramatically clapping your hands. “einstein would be jealous.”

“you really know how to hype someone up,” mina’s voice floats from behind you.

you glance over your shoulder to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smile on her lips. she’s dressed in a sleek coat and tailored pants, every inch the composed heiress, but the fondness in her gaze softens her usual edge.

“hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it,” you shoot back, pushing your glasses up. “though between the two of us, i’m not sure who’s rocking this look better.” you gesture at yourself, all rumpled and casual.

“no contest,” she quips, stepping into the room. “you win. i love when you wear your glasses"

hiro toddles over to her, raising his arms for her to pick him up. she obliges, balancing him on her hip with practiced ease.

“i need to head out,” she says, her tone casual. “dad's been missing hiro, and i thought… why not?”

you nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “i've heard. but good luck getting him to sit still in the car. he’s been full of energy all morning.”

“i think we’ll manage,” she replies, leaning in to brush a kiss against your cheek. “don’t work too hard while we’re gone.”

“me? overwork? never,” you joke, watching as she heads for the door.

the door closes behind them, and the apartment feels eerily quiet. you linger for a moment, staring at the spot where they stood, before heading to your office to skim through some briefs.

but as you sit down, your eyes fall on a small usb drive resting near your keyboard.

you’d forgotten all about it.

you pick it up, turning it over in your fingers. it’s nothing special—just a plain black drive—but your mind immediately goes to sehun. he’d handed it to you a week ago with a cryptic smile and a vague, "but be careful. you might not like the questions."

curiosity gnaws at you as you pick it up and plug it in. the screen flickers, and a folder opens automatically, revealing a list of files.

you scroll through, your frown deepening with every name you read.

dec7_met.docx.

p.i_report.pdf.

report_m_final.zip.

a strange, creeping unease settles over you as you spot a file named

{redacted ;)}

your chest tightens.

clicking on it reveals more files: a string of emails, blurry photos, and video clips. your heart pounds as you scan the dates—one in particular standing out.

{redacted ;)}

hovering over a video file, you hesitate. the cursor trembles, and every instinct screams at you to stop.

but you don’t.

you click.

the screen darkens, and the video starts to play.

-----

end of part four.

a/n — i'm so sorry for publishing late lmao i've been busy with school because for some reason school already started and we have no break ;-; AND ITS ALMOST MY BDAY GRAHHHHHHH

[floralcyanide]

ᴡɪɴᴇ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ — ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

cillian murphy x fem!reader (nsfw)

you and your best friend Cillian get wine drunk to celebrate his new role.

✣ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, drinking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, nipple play, female anatomy described, no prep, (not proof-read at all sorry oops)

✣ word count: 1.5k

✣ author’s note: this is short and sweet and I wrote a quarter of it like a year and a half ago and wanted to finish it when I stumbled upon it in my docs. I hope yall enjoy and happy new year (:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You always told yourself you’d never go after someone who didn’t want you fully. They had to want your everything, love your everything, and show it. Yet here you are, in your best friend’s bed, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. And wondering whether or not this was just a one-night type of thing. Even if it is, everything about your friendship has definitely changed. 

It started as a typical night at Cillian’s, sharing a bottle of wine and discussing roles he wanted to play this coming year. He already snagged a role as Johnathan Crane in the upcoming Batman movie, and you were beyond proud of him. But with the dim lights, candles lit, and the wine warming the two of you up, there was an undeniable tension in the room. A tension that had been building for a while and was now spilling into the night. Cillian was sitting across from you on the couch, leg crossed over the other. You were curled up, knees to your chest, as you sipped your wine. He stared at you, his gaze unwavering. You stared back, searching his eyes for an inkling of his thoughts. Warmth spread through your limbs and across your face as his eyes darkened. 

“What’s on your mind, love?” Cillian asked, his voice slightly raspy.

You cleared your throat, biting your lip and keeping eye contact, “You.”

“Really?” Cillian hummed, “What about me?”

You unravel your arms and legs, crawling over to where he was sitting, “Just you.”

Cillian pushed his hair from his face, looking you up and down with drowsy eyes.

“Gonna keep it a secret, huh?” Cillian chuckled, reaching a hand out to touch your hair.

You watched as he twirled it around his finger, “Maybe,” you looked back up at him, “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” Cillian blinked at you, “But I’m not gonna hide it.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose before groaning and covering your face with your hands, “Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what to you?” Cillian asked, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Tease me,” you huffed, “What are you getting at here?”

“Maybe it’s the wine talking or the fact you look absolutely perfect right now,” Cillian said, keeping your hands in his as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, “But I need you.”

You froze, “Need?”

Cillian looked down, laughing, before he set his eyes back on you, “Yes. I fucking need you, darling.”

You needed him to spell it out for you. So, you looked at him, puzzled. Cillian’s hands moved to your hips, pulling you onto his lap. 

“So,” Cillian massaged your skin through your comfy pants, “What about me were you thinking of?”

“How proud I am of you and how good you look in these sweatpants,” you blushed.

Your mind was swimming from the wine, and you knew you were treading in dangerous waters by being so outrightly flirty with your best friend. But you no longer cared because he was now flirty with you, too.

“Ah,” Cillian smiled, “I knew there was something naughty floating around up here,” he carded his fingers through your hair, scratching at your scalp playfully.

“And how did you know, exactly?” you wondered out loud.

“I see how you look at me,” Cillian whispered, pulling his hands from your hair and putting them back on your hips, “With a burning desire.”

You gulp nervously. Was it that obvious?

“Is that so?” you quirk an eyebrow, your shaky voice shrouding any faux confidence you were displaying.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Cillian leans into the side of your head, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his hips into your core; the feeling of him hardening underneath you makes your skin prickle, “I feel the same way about you.”

“Really?” your voice cracks, and you inwardly wince at your nervousness.

“Really,” Cillian replies, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, his tongue gliding down until he reaches your lobe, gently nibbling on the flesh.

Your hands that were by your side, afraid they’d shake, slowly wrapped around Cillian’s neck. He travels down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses as he occasionally licks your skin, relishing in your scent and taste. You give your hips an experimental swivel, and Cillian groans into your neck as he grows harder against your clothed core. He begins to toy with the hem of your shirt, sliding his hands underneath the fabric to feel your warm skin.

You wordlessly remove your shirt, tossing it to the floor. Cillian tries his best to keep his eyes glued to yours instead of letting them roam your body. But when you let your hands wander behind your back to unclasp your bra, Cillian fails at his task. His palms move from your sides to your bare breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, causing them to harden. You moan quietly at the feeling, and he repeats the action. Cillian squeezes your breasts as he toys with them, your back arching in pleasure. Before you can react, Cillian latches his warm mouth onto one of your nipples, provoking you to let out a whimper as he laps at the bud with his tongue. 

Without much thought, you grind down on him. This elicits a moan from Cillian, causing a vibration against your delicate skin. While his mouth is on one nipple, his fingers play with the other, and every few seconds, he’ll switch which one is rolled by his teeth. Your hands find Cillian’s hair, but only for a moment. He tugs at your pants, and you slide off his lap to remove them in haste. While you do so, Cillian slips off his shirt and sweatpants, and you can’t help but notice the bulge in his underwear. It’s been a while since your last sexual endeavor, and you hope he can fit inside you.

Cillian pulls you back onto his lap, and the thin fabric of your underwear is the only barrier between him and you. You put your hands on his chest as you bare down on his cock, bucking your hips back and forth. Cillian grips your hips softly as he guides you along him, his eyes cloudy with lust as he stares into yours, also clouded with desire. Cillian halts your movements. If you keep going, he’s going to cum in his underwear. You hover over him as he pulls down his last item of clothing, and you hurriedly shimmy yours off as well. Resuming your previous position, you grind your clit against Cillian’s hardened cock, feeling yourself grow wetter. Cillian bites his lip as he watches you pleasure yourself on him.

It doesn’t last long, however. Cillian pulls you up so he can place his tip against your entrance.

“Is this good?” he asks, his fingernails tracing shapes on your hips.

“This is great,” you smile, placing your hand on the back of his neck, “I want this.”

Cillian presses his fingertips into the flesh on your thighs as he pushes himself into you slowly. You sigh as the feeling of fullness burns delightfully until he’s fully seated inside you. You bite your lip as you adjust to Cillian’s girth. It’s everything you had hoped for in your imagination.

“You’re so tight,” Cillian groans, his head leaning back on the top of the couch, but his eyes are still level with yours, “Feels so good.”

You wiggle your hips to move him further into you, and you both moan at the feeling. Cillian pulls out slightly before pushing back in, gaining a rhythm as your wet cunt welcomes him, his length moving in and out of you with ease. You move your body along with his, grinding your hips on his as you fuck. Your head is nothing but lustful mush from the wine and the feeling of Cillian dragging inside you. Cillian isn’t far off, his brain buzzing from the alcohol and how you clench around him with every thrust.

Cillian grasps your breasts as you begin bouncing on his cock, your heavy breathing and moans making him desperate to cum inside you. He has always wondered how it would feel to fill you up with his cum, whether it be your cunt or your mouth. Soon, he won’t have to wonder. 

“I’m gonna cum, Cill,” you whine, your hips stuttering from the exertion.

“Gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Cillian groans, driving his length into you even faster, “Want me to cum inside? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you whimper without missing a beat, “Please cum in me, I want you to fill me up,”

“Good girl,” Cillian sighs, feeling himself grown closer to his orgasm.

You cum a lot quicker than expected, thanks to Cillian’s praise. You tremble as you fuck yourself on his cock until your body goes limp. You allow Cillian to continue, purposefully clenching around him to spur him on.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, Cillian,” you purr, bouncing your overstimulated cunt along his throbbing cock.

With one final thrust, Cillian spills into you with a gasp. You’re both sweaty, out of breath, and high with bliss. You can’t help but laugh.

“What?” Cillian’s face breaks into a smile, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “I just wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight, is all. I’m glad it did, though.”

Cillian moves your hair out of your face, “Me too.”

[charred-slime]

clingy

summary:

It makes no sense for the moment to be so gloomy. You’ll be back in two weeks, and you’ve gone longer without seeing Charlie due to his oftentimes wonky schedule with his job, but there’s just something in the air that weighs heavily on you both. Charlie’s arms stay loosely wrapped around you, and it pains you to pull away. “I’ll call you once I arrive, yeah?” You reassure him. He nods, and before you know it, you’re on the road, driving away from home. Or, reader goes away for a couple weeks, and Charlie's a clingy bastard about it

pairing: charlie x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is reeeally cheesy, but i hope that works out and makes it overall better! i really enjoyed writing this one^^ (time to get to the other requests-)

ao3 link, if you prefer. otherwise, the story's under the readmore!

It was early morning. Way too early morning. The reason you’d gotten up so early was that you were going to visit some family a couple states over. The way there would either be a long drive or a short flight, and you decided the extra expense of the flight was worth it. What you hadn’t realized was that the flight was at 7 in the damn morning.

Charlie’s place was a decently short drive to the airport, so you’d decided to stay the night there instead. You’d woken in your partner’s bed to the sound of your alarm by your head, reading 3 A.M. Luckily he hadn’t roused to it, because he could sleep through an atomic bomb, and stayed tightly wrapped around your form. Everything about him was tempting. Comfortable. His light snores, his warmer than hell body heat, his expensive ass mattress—but you managed to resist. 

With some experienced wriggling, you get out of his grasp and head to the kitchen. 

All of your stuff was packed and by the front door, ready for leaving at any moment. All there was left to do was get ready and head out. 

After washing up and changing into some semi-presentable clothes, you get to frying a couple eggs while the coffee brewed. A playlist plays softly in the background, nothing loud enough to wake Charlie (you’d know from much experience waking before him), so you’re shocked when you feel vibrations of walking headed your way. 

Soon enough, there are familiar arms wrapped around your waist, and a familiar weight placed on your shoulder. His messy hair flops forward and tickles your cheek, especially when he nuzzles his head like a cat. 

“Why’re you ‘wake?” He grumbles, barely audible with the combination of being muffled by your shoulder and his gravelly morning voice. 

“Visiting my family, remember?” You answer, getting to plate your freshly fried eggs then turning the fire off. There’s no telling how this interaction would end, and you’d rather not burn the building down by accident. 

You feel his head tilt to one side, as if considering this oh so new information (you’d told him a week ago, and he was the one who suggested sleeping over the night before), then his grip around your waist tightens. 

“Nuh uh. Gotta stay here with me.” His hands go to yours and unarms it of the spatula before immediately going back to holding you. “Come back t’bed.” He clumsily pulls at you in the general direction of the bedroom, and you roll your eyes fondly before turning around in his arms. 

You push him until he’s leaning against the kitchen island and take in the glory that is post-sleep Charlie. His eyes are a little swollen and barely open, covered even more by the rat's nest he calls a bedhead. His entire demeanor is loose, muscles lacking the usual extreme energy found in his videos, leaning forward more into you than the island. And of course, he’s pouting. 

With a fond sigh, you comb your fingers through his hair a little until it’s out of his eyes, though no less messy. He leans into the touch, and juts his bottom lip out even more when you take your hand away. 

“I can't back out of this one, sweetheart. You know I would if I could.” You whisper, hand caressing the side of his face and thumb lightly running over the apple of his cheek. He leans into that too. You could've sworn he had golden retriever energy, but he seems to become cat-like when he's sleepy with all of his clinginess. 

“I wanna be mad but I can't be mad when you call me that,” he whines, as if he doesn't absolutely adore it when you use pet names. 

“I know, baby, that's why I said it.” When his pout gets deeper (how was that even possible?), you lean in for a quick peck on the lips. When you pull back, his eyes are already more awake, and his bottom lip has retracted to a more reasonable level of grump. 

He leans back in for another kiss, and who are you to deny him? Your lips meet in a chaste kiss, both of you far too tired to bring anything more into it. The surrounding air is cold in the way that homes are at dawn, but kissing Charlie warms you from inside that no heater could ever accomplish. Cheesy, but undoubtedly true considering the sparks that continue to fly so far into your relationship. 

This time, as you pull away, Charlie’s pout has fully transformed into a familiar goofy grin. So easy to please. 

“Think you can let me go now?” As much as you’d like to stay there forever (or, even better, crawl back into bed as Charlie suggested), the digital clock on his wall already read 3:57 AM, and you needed to get going to ensure that you wouldn’t be late. 

He groans dramatically, pulling you closer into another hug. Everything about it screams “do you really have to go?” and the way you pat his back says “I don’t like it any more than you do” in response. 

Eventually, his brain apparently comes around to the idea, albeit reluctantly, because he asks, “how long’re you gonna be gone for?” 

“Just two weeks.”

“Two whole weeks?” Charlie groans again, although this one was evidently more for show than anything. You give him a soft laugh in response, nudging his shoulder. 

“Alright, big guy. Enough with the act.” 

You turn back to the kitchen counter and start packing a couple things to bring with you. Protein bars and fruits for a light breakfast since you won’t have time to finish your eggs, a tumbler for your coffee, and a roll of the eyes for extra measure when Charlie won’t let go of his contact with you throughout all of it. 

At the door, once all of your stuff is on your back and in your hands, you turn back to him for one final kiss goodbye. He wraps you in another hug like the koala of a man he is, and the touch lingers even after you pull back. 

It makes no sense for the moment to be so gloomy. You’ll be back in two weeks, and you’ve gone longer without seeing Charlie due to his oftentimes wonky schedule with his job, but there’s just something in the air that weighs heavily on you both. Charlie’s arms stay loosely wrapped around you, and it pains you to pull away. 

“I’ll call you once I arrive, yeah?” You reassure him. 

He nods, and before you know it, you’re on the road, driving away from home. 

________

Beyond the visit to family, travelling a little was nice. You treated yourself to some desserts you might not usually allow yourself to have, got some alone time during later hours, and even met some old friends from your hometown. All in all, it was quite the successful trip.

None of that mattered in your mind as you drove back home from the airport. Two weeks of only seeing Charlie on a screen. Only hearing his voice through the crappy tinny speakers of your phone. Not being able to touch him. 

You’d poked fun at him for being so dramatic about the duration of your trip, but you quickly ate your words. 

Once your car is parked safely and your luggage is jammed into your arms (you’d rather break them than take more than one trip to take stuff in), you’re rushing to Charlie’s door. You didn’t expect him to be available immediately, because you knew it was a streaming day, but wanted to be inside as soon as possible. 

You’re fumbling with your keys when the door suddenly opens in your face, and your feet are no longer touching the floor. You yelp as Charlie picks you up, dropping everything to wrap your arms around him as he swings you around in a big circle. 

“Charlie! What the fuck?!” You scream, but can’t help the laugh of absolute glee that escapes you. The wind whips in your hair, and you’re only put down when you have a few too many close calls with the doorway. 

Even after you’re placed back on the ground, you’re at a loss for air as Charlie immediately pulls you back into a lung-puncturing bear hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, one band going to the back of your head to cradle it closer. You’ve never felt so welcome in your whole life. 

“I missed you,” he whispers.

You hum in response and lean into the hug more, patting his back as affirmation. 

For the rest of the day, Charlie doesn’t let go of you. He claims it’s necessary to “charge his boyfriend battery,” whatever that means, but you’re just happy to be by his side. 

[nonexistence1199]

A place where seasons never change

Soukoku - Beast AU!

Warning: Angst, mention of death, blood, self-harm

Currently playing: See You Again - Charlie Puth & Wiz Khalifa + memories at the end of the world - AZALI

Author's note: Does anyone know the artist of the fanart above?! Please tell me I wanna worship their talent oh my god (っ °Д °;)っ And thus, this whole thing.... maybe it's just about flashbacks fr:v

[...]

-"Chibi~!"

A voice rang through the Port Mafia's hallway, a certain brunette drag his annoying ass to "accidentally" hit the short ginger, who was caught off guard and stumbled a bit.

-"Tch, get back here, you annoying waste of bandage-!"

The shorter male growls, quickly chasing after him. Who else could it be? Yes, the "certain brunette" is Dazai Osamu, his annoying partner in crime- no, more like rivals in crime.

-"Awww, our little Chuuya is extra grumpy today~ Poor you, that grimaced face makes you look like a thirty-year-old man, you know that?"

With a flicker of wind, Chuuya feels something lifting off his head. He quickly looks around - the front door is open, and… Wait, what?!

-"Damn you, Dazai!!"

Running towards the open door, Chuuya rushes through the garden in the backyard. Successfully grabbed Dazai's coat to pull him back, the bandaged boy let out a playful squeal.

-"Woah, no need to be so harsh, Chuu Chuu~"

Chuuya rolls his eyes at the other's giggles, covering his messy red hair with the Fedora which is now back on his head. A sudden pull on his arm from his supposed "rival" caught Chuuya off guard, and his eyes went wide for a second.

-"What the hell you think you're doing, huh?"

-"Ahhhh, enjoying life! Today's quite a beautiful day don't ya think?"

Chuuya almost did a double take when he heard the words coming out of his partner's mouth. Is he serious? This suicidal bastard, enjoying life?

-"And I'm not in the mood to do a little "experiment" about death today…"

At this point, Chuuya had choked on the air.

-"No, are you okay? You, mackerel, won't try to commit suicide? Not in the mood?"

The ginger-haired boy was dumbfounded, even when Dazai dragged him by his arm out of the building towards the small secluded garden.

And Chuuya's eyes twitched slightly when the other started rambling with his signature smug smile.

[...]

The crystal sky turns grey. A summer rain crashes by, causing Chuuya to pull out his black umbrella. The messy bangs are even messier because of the wind from before, and he start walking down the street.

It has been exactly 1 year 9 months 6 days since the day he lost his most regretful bet.

The cold and wet drops of rain, the sound of them hitting the hard ground, were once soothing for him. It once felt warm. And there was once someone who stayed by his side, wrapping his coat around him with a teasing smirk plastered on his stupid face.

Chocolate eyes, and the way his pain-in-the-ass laughter echoes in the air whenever Chuuya was tricked.

And the Port Mafia executive wonders, where is that certain someone now?

[...]

-"...Dazai, so you're here?"

Chuuya frown, crossing his arms as he gaze down his so-called "boss". Dazai Osamu, now he is the godamn boss of the mafia.

It is funny, but it really is.

But it is still ironic, considering Dazai has just discreetly sneaked out from work again.

-"Get back to work, you idiot"

With that, Dazai whine like a child. The poor executive gasped slightly when the Port Mafia boss pulled him down on the grass, and with a soft "thud", his back landed on the ground with Dazai on top of him, his usual stupid grin makes Chuuya's veins pop up.

-"Get off me, you idiot!" he snapped, trying to push the other man away. Dazai just laughed, the sound light and carefree, not caring in the slightest about Chuuya's irritation.

-“Come on, Chuuya! It’s a beautiful day!” Dazai exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at him with those infuriatingly charming eyes. - “Why so serious?”

Chuuya's face flushed a deep shade of red, half from anger and half from the ridiculousness of the situation.

-“You’re such a pain”

Dazai tilted his head, still grinning.

-“But you love it. Admit it!” “Love it?” Chuuya scoffed, trying to maintain his tough facade.

-“I can't stand you!” “Oh, so you do love me!” Dazai winked, clearly enjoying the banter.

-“Shut up!”

Chuuya snapped, finally managing to roll over and shove Dazai away, climbing to his feet with a huff. He brushed the grass off his back, glaring down at Dazai.

All he see is a wide grin from his boss.

-"Aww, Chuuya, you look like you're going to have a heart attack or something!"

Scoffing, he sits down beside Dazai. The view down the hill is kind of... calm, he must admit. Sunlight strands lingering on his small figure, and a drop of silence wash by.

-"What would it be if the seasons never change?"

Chuuya raise an eyebrow, glancing skeptically at the boss.

-"Well.... I don't know. Only one weather over the years, I guess?

His confusion grows when Dazai burst out of laughing. Is there anything funny at all..?

-"...Well, Chibi, that's a tolerable answer."

-"And what's you 'better' idea, huh, boss?"

Dazai smiles slightly, staring at a distance. Surprisingly, it looks as if Chuuya has caught a glimpse of light in those dark, lifeless pupils.

-"...You'll know soon enough..."

A pause cut through the air, and Dazai returns to his snarky attitude,

-"Or you would never know, considering how stupid you are, I suppose."

[...]

The rain finally stops.

Hot summer air burns through the streets, which lead down a secluded part of the city. The sky is clear with not even a drop of cloud, and sunlight streams down every pedestrian who walks by. Chuuya's small figure casts a shadow on the ground, cooling down the area where the grey tombstone is standing.

Dazai Osamu.

Chuuya wonders, where is he now?

That freak.

His rival, his enemy, his number one assassin target, his boss, his love, and his everything-

Maybe he was just stupid - like Dazai said - too stupid for not realizing the meaning of the question he asked that day.

If the seasons never change, maybe we could stay together for a little longer.

But there's no place where the seasons never change...

Except for the place where souls linger after death.

.

And Chuuya stands there, drowning in the memories that have never been once forgotten.

[thegreatyin]

And thus, with the passing of 24 hours, Caeru's ambition truly comes to an end. Major Nemesis spoilers below the cut- we're talking endgame ambition business here. Mostly on a character RP front.

The Doomed Scientist made quite a few... choice decisions, in the end. Killing Cups once and for all, recording his story as one of grief-

And sparing what little remained of Mr Mirrors, leaving it free to roam Parabola as it sees fit.

Some of them, he can explain. Others, he's still left to feel... discontent.

Cups needed to die. That much was certain from the start. It was a tyrant, as all Masters are, and complicit in the bargaining and eventual destruction of four (potentially five) cities, as all Masters are. It was an obstacle. A murderer. A petty monster that felt no remorse even on its deathbed, and it went out of its way to ruin multiple lives just because it felt owed its own sick and twisted idea of revenge.

It killed his first love. It looked him in the eyes and he knew what it had done and he knew from the start it was going to die.

Perhaps, in the end, it knew too. And yet it still pleaded, and wanted to live, and-

It made a bargain.

A bargain Caeru didn't take.

Not because he didn't want to. Gods, he wanted to. He wanted it. He wanted it more than anything else in the world. To have Greylu back, to give him the gift of life, of love, to show him the wonders of the Neath and the beauty of the correspondence and all of the people Caeru has met and loved and found home with along the way-

But. He couldn't.

Because Cups was a monster. And no matter what, it deserved to die. And he could not, in good conscience, allow it to live.

Even if sparing it meant everything he's ever wanted.

So he's left here, now. With a bloodied traveling coat, and a bloodsoaked knife, and a favor finally fulfilled.

And nothing to live for. No resurrected lover, no charming visits to Helicon, no slow dances in the living room, no memories to rebuild and lives to live and he won't live again-

Nothing. All he has is a coat born of obligation, not to his love, but to people he's never even met. To lives he's never even touched. To a paramour, still alive, with hair of rose-pink, who doesn't even remember her own brother's existence.

Cups didn't die for Caeru's sake. Cups died for the sake of all who wanted it dead. For the revenger's court, and the ghost screaming in his ear, and the reckoning that will not be postponed indefinitely.

And Caeru, who acted as a tool to carry out their wills? Who all but betrayed his own lover, just to satisfy a cause he never knew existed?

All Caeru is left with, is regret. Regret-

-And grief.